


when the hope of new beginnings burned our feet

by Knightblazer



Series: Knight of the Renegades [2]
Category: Persona 5, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Persona Fusion, BAMF Greg Lestrade, Crossover, Gen, Post-Reichenbach, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 15:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: Greg deals with the consequences on what it means to change a person's heart.(or, Greg Lestrade learns the basics of being a Persona protagonist.)





	when the hope of new beginnings burned our feet

**Author's Note:**

> Don't you like how you think 'oh maybe I'll write something next month' and then suddenly its November and you end up using NaNoWriMo to force yourself to write...
> 
> This fic definitely did not need to be this long, and I blame NaNo for that. This also takes place between [burn my dread](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11358858) and [last ace in a lost hand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11291880) instead of being a proper sequel. I swear I do not mean to be like Kingdom Hearts only do prequels and interquels - this fic was actually supposed to be a flashback sequence on the actual sequel I was halfway writing but then it decided to become its own thing, so. :'| 
> 
> Anyway. Just like with the others, this fic is not Brit-picked or beta read, so any and all mistakes are my own with apologies in advance. And as always, a little bit more headcanon/blabbering will be at the end of this fic, if you're interested in that.

Donovan had been the one who alerted him about the broadcast. “You might want to see this, sir,” she had told him after knocking on the door of his office to get his attention. Greg had been confused about her words, but went nevertheless since the television is in the pantry and he could make do with a new cup of coffee. It had been a few days since he worked with both Ian and Morgana to take down Spencer’s Palace but he could still feel the exhaustion down to his bones. He definitely didn’t have the stamina to keep on running around and jumping everywhere like the other two.

For better or for worse, the exhaustion is keeping his mind distracted from the other things that currently occupy his thoughts. He still wasn’t sure at all if what they had done is right, even if Spencer deserved it and both he and Ian had no other options available to them. The thought of just changing somebody like that seemed so fantastical, even after having witnessed the cognitive world (or the ‘Metaverse’, as Morgana called it) and awakening to his Persona. He understands the logic behind it, but still…

Once he stopped feeling like he needed to keel over every hour maybe he should try and take up some reading. He doesn’t know how much it will help, but anything more is better than just depending on a talking cat. Not that he doesn’t trust Morgana, but it’s always better to have more than just a single source of information.

There’s s surprising crowd of people gathered in the pantry when he arrives. Most of them are from his team but there’s a good number from the other divisions as well. Those other people are the ones who turn to stare at him the moment Greg steps into the pantry. Greg can’t help but pause briefly, not too sure what to make of their reactions and the way they look at him like that.

“Sir,” Donovan says quietly beside him after a moment, nudging him at the same time to remind him that he’s standing at the doorway and thus blocking the way. Greg takes the cue and moves himself over to the pantry and turns to face the counter, hiding from the gazes that threaten to burn though his back. It’s definitely more than a little weird for his tastes. Just what in the world is going on here?

Even as curious as he is, Greg knows better than to ask them directly. With the looks that he’s already getting talking to them directly is probably only going to make things worse, and that’s the very last thing that he wants to happen. His standing in the Yard is shaky enough as it is after everything with Sherlock… and doubly so now with Spencer’s stuff still hanging over his head. Though Spencer’s Shadow did say that he would ‘make amends’, it’s still hard to see how that is going to directly affect the real Spencer when he wasn’t even aware of what was happening within his cognitive world.

Not the time and place for this. Greg clears those thoughts away with a shake of his head and sets his mug onto the counter before reaching for the coffee powder. He hears the news playing from the television as he busies himself with making his coffee, the voice of the reporter eventually fading into background noise.

Soon enough, he finishes his coffee, and just as he picks it up the words of the reporter suddenly come into crystal clear focus. “And now, we bring you a live broadcast of the emergency press conference from Robert Spencer.”

Greg turns around so fast in that moment he thinks he might have had whiplash, then drops his mug in the next second with a yelp of pain when the hot coffee inevitably sloshes over the edge and goes right onto his hand. Fortunately the mug is made of plastic instead of ceramic (one of Greg’s many lessons from his early detective years), so it doesn’t end up as a million pieces on the floor—though the same can’t be said for the coffee itself.

Again the eyes are back on him, but the immediate need to clean up the spilled coffee distracts him from everything else he would be feeling from that. “Sorry, let me just—” he hastily starts to apologize, though he cuts himself off halfway upon getting the nearby rag for situations such as these. Greg crouches down onto the floor and starts to wipe off the coffee from the tiles, although his gaze soon shifts up to the television.

Displayed on the screen is the lobby of Bluecorp’s office tower, a place Greg has been in just once when he had initially attempted to confront Spencer. But instead of the empty floor there’s a makeshift stage lined with a table, and it only takes a moment for Greg to see Spencer himself being seated there. Facing the stage are rows of chairs, every one of them filled with reporter after reporter. It’s not an unfamiliar sight to Greg, but what gets his attention most is the way Spencer stays in his seat, head lowered so the cameras can’t catch his face. As far as Greg could remember Spencer always loved soaking in the attention especially in news conferences like these, so why is he suddenly so quiet today?

Not really paying attention Greg feels his knee touch something wet and warm, and he looks back down to swear softly when he realizes that he’s accidentally put his knee onto the spilled coffee. That definitely needs to be dealt with as soon as possible. Greg stands up and heads to the sink, which is fortunately nearby so he can still hear the television as he rinses the rag and starts to try and dab off the worst of the coffee off the material of his pants.

“…I know in the last few weeks there have been rumors of me being involved in illicit dealings,” he hears Spencer’s voice floating across the room from the television. “Some even have suspected me to be involved in the murder of Anthony Parker, one of the lawyers that worked in my company. I am here today to reveal the truth of these matters.”

Greg holds his breath despite himself and hears the almost deafening pounding of his heart against his ribcage. Was this the moment of truth? Would he find out if the change of heart that Morgana described actually worked? He wasn’t entirely sure if he actually wanted to find out.

“The truth is…” Spencer trails off, and a moment later he hears something like a soft intake of breath. “The truth is… these accusations are indeed the truth.”

Murmurs immediately break across the crowd, both from the television as well as inside the pantry itself. Greg felt like he had been struck by lightning and all his nerves were on edge now. He gives his pant one more useless dab with the rag and tosses it back onto the sink to deal with later. Right now all he can do is to step out from the corner where the sink is and actually see what’s happening on screen.

What he sees is perhaps a sight beyond words. Spencer has stood up from his seat, microphone in hand as he address the reporters in a shaky tone. “I have done… many things… in order to undermine my competitors. Bribery, extortion, blackmail… and most recently, murder.”

A gasp runs through from the television and the others in the pantry. The camera decides to zoom in onto Spencer’s face at this point, and Greg can now see that there are actual tears running down the sides of his face.

“I confess to the murder of Anthony Parker,” he announces, and the commotion from the press gets even louder now. “He was a good person trying to bring justice to my wrongs, but I murdered him and even framed his own brother for the act.” Spencer shakes his head and chokes out his next words. “There is no way a man like me deserves to live.”

The commotion almost rises to a tide now from the television. “Are you planning to turn yourself in to the police?” Greg hears one of the reporters shout out.

Spencer glances in the direction of where Greg guesses the reporter is at. “Turn myself… yes,” he says, just loud enough for the microphones to catch, and then repeats himself louder. “Yes, I will turn myself to the police as soon as this conference is over.”

“Is this confession being made now in hopes of being given a lighter sentence?” another reporter asks.

Spencer shakes his head in response. “After all the atrocious acts that I have done to others, I do not deserve any mercy. I could be tried for all the crimes I’ve done and it still will never be enough to right my wrongs. I have hurt so many people and ruined so many lives… and I’ve done all this for nothing else but profit.”

Greg watches as Spencer walks away from the table and moves to stand at the front of the stage. He stays there for the next few moments before he suddenly falls to his knees.

“I…” he starts, and this time Greg doesn’t need the camera to zoom in to know that Spencer is crying once more. “I am an arrogant, shallow, foolish man,” he says, “I dared to think that I was somebody more and tried to prove myself, but all I’ve done is to scheme and hurt other people. After everything I’ve done, I don’t even deserve to be called human. I don’t deserve anything less than the death penalty.”

Even more murmurs now sweep through both the audience in Bluecorp and at the pantry, but all that noise quickly fades away in Greg’s ears. He can’t believe at what he’s seeing right now, isn’t even sure if he’s just imagining it up or if Spencer is just putting on a show for some unfathomable reason. But if it is an act there’s no way he would just confess to the murder charge like this. Even if found not guilty, it’d put everything he has in jeopardy. Did that mean Greg could only take this as truth?

“And to the detective who confronted me…” Greg snaps his head back up at those words, a sudden fear making his heart lurch. What is Spencer going to say? Too many possibilities race through his mind and none of them were good, and those thoughts do nothing to ease the anxiety that’s quickly building up inside him.

He holds his breath as he waits for the seconds between Spencer’s last words and the next ones that he speaks. “I did something terrible to you as well even though all you were doing was to find justice for the wrongs that I’ve done. I will withdraw the report that I lodged against you before I turn myself in fully.”

It’s… well. Greg had not quite been expecting that, but he supposes it’s nice to have that confirmation all the same. But at this point that issue is now pretty much the least of his worries.

“I could apologize a million times and it still won’t be enough to make up for the things that I’ve done.” Spencer lowers his head and shakes it, his fists clenched and trembling against his thighs. “If my life was enough to atone then I would have gladly offered it, but I know better than to think my life would be worth that much. A horrible person like me doesn’t have any worth at all in this society.”

There’s a momentary silence from the floor after that statement, and Greg can’t blame them—hearing all of this at once and so suddenly is a shock even for him, and he’s the one who witnessed his Shadow and everything. He can only barely imagine how the people who had been in the dark previously are taking this right now.

Still, the broadcast must continue, and eventually the silence is broken by a timid voice that’s almost inaudible from the television—Greg guesses it most likely comes from a new reporter on the scene. “I-If I may ask… what will happen to your company? Um, after y-you turn yourself in.”

Spencer looks up at the question, and pained smile slowly makes its way onto his face. “This company was found and grown on lies and the livelihood of innocent people,” he answers, “there is no reason for something like this to continue existing.”

He turns back to face the crowd of reporters. “From this very moment, Bluecorp Inc. has officially shut down.”

Greg hears the reporters practically burst out with the questions now after that announcement—and for good reason—but by this point Greg could no longer listen to the broadcast. His head is swimming with the reality of what had happened, and knowing that what he had just watched on the television had been a direct result of what happened in the cognitive world. He had done this. He got Spencer to confess to his crimes just like he had wanted from the very beginning. It should be a good thing, so why did he feel so dreadful instead?

“Sir?” Greg jerks his head and finds himself staring at Donovan, who’s now looking at him with a worried expression on her face. “Sir, you alright? You’re looking a little pale.”

It takes a few moments for Greg to find his voice. “I…” He should be happy. He should feel accomplished that he had done this. But all he feels is a sudden uncertainty that shakes the very foundation of his beliefs. He swallows down a hard lump in his throat and tries to find the words again. “Sorry, I just…”

Donovan gives him a sympathetic look. “You don’t need to force yourself, sir. Even I’m trying to wrap my head around Spencer’s sudden hundred eighty.”

Greg can’t quite stop the grimace that appears on his face. “…yeah,” he manages out after a pause. That’s really all he can say on the matter right now.

Apparently Donovan has taken his response as an affirmation to hear her out, because she continues to speak even though Greg really isn’t paying much attention to whatever that she’s saying (he catches some words like ‘surprising’ and ‘mystery’, which is enough for him to get the context considering what just happened). He really would have listened in another time and place, but at this moment his mind is filled with a very different train of thought. Thoughts such as Shadows and Palaces and the cognitive world and the full implications of what he had just witnessed on television.

He’s only broken out of his thoughts when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket—he must have forgotten to switch the silence off. It’s probably a good thing though, since he has a good guess as to why his phone had buzzed and the last thing he should do now is to look at his phone while there are others who can potentially see his messages.

Quickly Greg puts his thoughts back together and focuses to Donovan’s ongoing rant. “—and I swear, sir, if they’re not going to give us any credit just because Spencer went up and confessed live—”

Greg cuts her off before she can go on any further. “Sorry, Sally, got to use the loo.” He gestures to the coffee that is still on his pants. “Need to try and salvage this as much as I can.”

Donovan immediately stops with her rant. “Oh,” she says, looking down to where the coffee had soaked through at his knees. “Sorry about that, sir.”

“It’s alright.” It’s not as if he doesn’t understand why; had he been in her shoes, he probably would feel the same way too. “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

“I’ll hold you up to it.” Donovan flashes him a wry smile, then shoos him away with a hand. “Now go and take care of those pants.”

Greg manages out a quiet chuckle as he takes his leave and makes his escape to the lavatory as quickly as he can. Once he’s there he all but throws himself into the furthest stall from the entrance, making sure to lock the door behind him. After that he puts down the cover and sits on top of it, taking out his phone from his pocket and seeing pretty much what he had expected to see—a message from Ian himself.

He gives himself a few seconds to mentally prepare for everything that he knows will happen soon enough, and then proceeds to open the message.

 **FROM:** IAN PARKER  
**TO:** GREG LESTRADE

_We need to meet._

Short and to the point. Greg can go with that—along with the notion to meet up. That’s probably much better than sending messages anyway. He quickly composes a response on his phone and sends it back to Ian.

_Agreed. My place at 9PM?_  
_GL_

He stays in the stall to wait for a response. Greg has no doubt that Ian is just as antsy as he feels right now, which most likely meant that he had been waiting for a response since having sent that text.

Greg takes a moment to briefly look though his emails just so his mind is occupied while he waits. A few promotional emails, some spam, and right after he clears those his phone buzzes with a response from Ian which Greg quickly opens to see.

_Alright. We’ll talk then._

Greg looks at the message one more time before he closes his messaging app and keeps his phone. Though it had been unspoken Greg knows that Ian will be bringing Morgana as well. If there’s anybody at all who can shed a bit more light on the situation, it’ll be the talking cat, and god knows that he needs all the answers that he can get.

* * *

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?”

As much as Greg wants to say that Ian is being a bit too harsh there, a bigger part of him can’t help but lean closer to Ian’s side. He knows better than to voice that out though, especially when Morgana scowls and hisses right back at them in return. “What I mean is that _I don’t know_! This is the first successful example for me, too!”

That part Greg certainly had not heard before. “You mean you’ve never done it before?”

Morgana snaps his head over to him and scowls even harder than before. “ _You’re_ the detective! You should know if you’ve had any strange arrests in the past, don’t you?”

Greg has to admit that the cat did a point there, for the most part. Unfortunately, however… “I don’t get as much news as I used to in the past.” Not since Sherlock and his jump, and then Greg’s own unspoken demotion. Sure, he may still be a DI, but these days it’s pretty much more for show than anything else. He usually tries not to let it bother him but its times like these where the knowledge of it stings hard.

For a moment Morgana looks like he’s about to snap out another retort, but then stops himself for some reason. “W-Well, regardless,” he says instead with a shake of his head, “It doesn’t matter, right? Spencer confessed to his crimes just like what you guys wanted. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I—” Ian starts and stops just as quickly, and Greg watches the expression on his face turn from annoyed to conflicted. “I’m glad that he confessed and didn’t end up as a vegetable like we were worried about, but… all the stuff he said, how he wasn’t worth it and that he would have given up his life if he could…” He trails off and shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut as he finishes his sentence. “It just felt like… I don’t know. Like it was too much.”

Greg vividly recalls the broadcast earlier and feels a chill run down his spine. The way he had said everything, and how he had acted… it had been all so unlike Spencer that Greg wouldn’t believe them to be the same person if he hadn’t been the one to instigate it. And even then watching Spencer on television earlier felt like he was seeing some other version of Spencer instead.

 _Some other version_ … Greg shifts his gaze over to Morgana and speaks. “Morgana. What happens when a person’s Palace is destroyed?” The cat had told them before, sure, but that was back when he was more desperate to put an end to Spencer and save his own skin. Perhaps now he can actually take the information in a new light.

Morgana looks briefly surprised at the question, but thankfully acquiesces his request with asking why. “A Palace is the literal manifestation of a person’s distorted desires. Though the person themselves isn’t aware of it in the real world, what happens within the Metaverse does affect them.”

They did hear all of this before, as much as Greg can recall. He nods to show his acknowledgement, but on the other end Ian isn’t wholly satisfied. “You told all of this to us last time,” he snaps, irritation quickly bleeding through.

“I’m just saying everything that I know, alright!” Morgana is up on his haunches as he hisses back his response, more than a little annoyed by this point—and for good reason.

Greg decides it’s time for him to break up this argument before it escalates any further. “Ian, I was the one who asked Morgana. I want to check on something from him.”

As worked up as he is now Ian clearly looks not too happy to be reprimanded, but he doesn’t say anything and settles back down onto the couch. His glare is fixed onto Morgana, however, and the expression on his face shows that he isn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

The cat in question pointedly ignores Ian and focuses his attention on Greg. “Is there anything in particular you want me to focus on?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

Honestly Greg doesn’t mind it too much for Morgana to explain everything, but he supposes this is the cat’s way of making amends with Ian. He thinks about it for a while and eventually manages to find the right words for his question. “What exactly happens when we stole Spencer’s Treasure from his Palace?”

Morgana takes a bit more time to respond here. “Like I’ve said in the past, the Treasure is what maintains a Palace. It’s the embodiment of a person’s uncontrolled desires taking on physical form. I suppose one way to describe it is like a tumor in your body.”

That… had not exactly been the best mental image that Greg wanted when he first asked this question, but he can deal with it. Still, he can’t quite stop himself from wincing a little at the thought of it. “So taking the Treasure and destroying the Palace—that’s removing the tumor?”

“More or less.” Morgana nods his head as he says that. “It’s like removing the bad stuff inside of you. Those warped desires that Spencer had before are all gone now—literally.”

Spencer’s desires were literally taken away? Greg pauses at those words and mulls it over. If he were to take the words at face value… “It’s completely gone?”

Another nod from Morgana. “Yes. Like it never existed.”

Like it was never there at all… Greg can barely wrap his head around the whole thing, but the few conclusions that his mind can get to are not good at all. He mutters a few choice swears under his breath and rubs his palm against his jaw, not trusting himself to remain quiet. Then again, it’s hard to remain silent in a situation like this.

It certainly applies as such to Ian. “We removed all of his desires that his Treasure represented?” he asks, frowning, “What does that exactly mean?”

“Just imagine waking up one day no longer loving the things you did yesterday, or loving all the things you once hated while the opposite happens to the things you once loved.” Greg’s mind is still whirling, trying to put the pieces together and attempting to make sense of everything. “Would you still consider yourself the same person then?”

Ian turns to look at him with an even deeper frown on his face. “I mean, technically speaking, it still is.”

“It’s just… I don’t know.” Greg sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Did we actually do the right thing by stealing the Treasure?” Even after all the pain and suffering that Spencer put them through Greg can’t find any sense of joy or accomplishment in knowing that Spencer had done what they wanted. If anything all he feels is a sense of dread.

“We had no other choice.” Ian, of course, resolutely sticks to his own beliefs, and Greg can’t fault him for that. Spencer had been far more personal to Ian than he had been to Greg. “If we didn’t stop Spencer, who knows how many more people he would have hurt because of his crimes.”

Another sigh from Greg. “I know that, Ian.” He knows that Spencer would have continued what he did without remorse if they hadn’t done anything. He needed to be stopped, that much Greg understands. But was stopping him in this way the best way to do things? Greg isn’t sure if he’ll ever have a satisfactory answer for that question. And beyond that… Greg doesn’t think he’s really even qualified to answer that. Perhaps doubly so now after what he had done.

Morgana looks between the both of them. “At least he didn’t suffer a shutdown and ended up a vegetable,” he says after a pause. “I mean, you guys were more worried about that, right?”

That was true as well. None of them really knew what could happen to Spencer when they went to steal his Treasure. At least now he was still walking and talking and generally being the same… except with a few forced changes. Changes they had made onto him through the cognitive world because they wanted their own justice.

God.

Greg runs both of his hands through his hair this time around and forces himself to take in a breath before speaking. “Either way… we should lay low for a while. Spencer’s whole confession is going to be the talk of the town for at least the next month.” Greg can already imagine the headlines on the papers and the rumors in the Yard. There was also the fact that he’s technically in charge of the case, and only god knows how this was going to affect him, especially when he was still on shaky ground due to Sherlock.

“…agreed.” Well, at least they do agree on something. “We’re both directly involved in this, like it or not. We definitely can’t let ourselves be suspected of anything involving Spencer.”

“Well, at least nobody can figure out our methods,” Morgana chimes in with a flick of his tail. “So I’m sure we’ll be safe as long as you guys keep your heads down.”

Keeping his head down is certainly something Greg can do very well. “We’ll keep in contact if anything changes.” He certainly hopes that won’t happen, but with how in the dark they still are over everything there’s no telling what might happen next. They need to be as knowledgeable as they can be.

Ian nods and voices out his agreement. “Of course.”

“Alright, then, let’s end this meeting,” says Morgana. “It’s getting late anyway, and Greg has an early day tomorrow.”

An early as well as long day. Greg stifles down a sigh and tries not to think about the headache he’s going to deal with at work the next day. “Yeah. Morgana has a point. I should go to bed soon.”

“Don’t let me keep you then.” Ian stands up from the couch and makes his way to the door in order to take his leave. Greg follows and opens the door up for him, also taking the moment to properly bid him goodbye at the entrance.

“Take care of yourself,” he tells him.

Ian smiles in return. “You too, Greg.”

And Greg thinks he’ll certainly have to try if he’s going to want to survive the next few days.

* * *

Igor’s grin remains as unsettling as always when Greg steps into the Velvet Room.

“A belated congratulations to your first victory,” he says from his side of the room. As always Igor’s voice comes though perfectly clear even though they’re divided by a wall, but Greg has long since stopped questioning the logic of this place. If this place is anything like the cognitive world, then sense doesn’t really apply to most of the things that happen in here.

Greg settles himself down on the interrogation chair, the chains of his handcuffs jangling with the action. Caroline and Justine stand at each end of the interrogation table like they always do, backs straight and their gazes locked forward for now. A part of him can’t help but point out how he was oddly starting to get used to all of this, but it’s something he doesn’t want to dwell on for too long.

“What you and your allies have done is something to be commended,” Greg pauses in his thoughts and focuses his attention back onto Igor, who continues to have that disconcerting grin on his face even while he speaks. “It is rare that those without the guidance of a Trickster are able advance forward.”

Justine lets out a thoughtful hum after Igor’s words. “It is rare to hear our master praise anybody at all, much less one who isn’t marked by the Fool.”

“You hear that, Suspect?” Caroline smacks her baton against the surface of the desk, as she always does every time she wants to make a point (which is quite often, considering how scorched the table’s surface already is). “Make sure you remember this moment well. You’d be lucky if our master ever decides you’re worthy of praise a second time.”

Greg is pretty sure he isn’t here for the praise, but wisely decides to keep his mouth shut instead of saying that aloud. The last thing he wants is to actually get Caroline’s baton flying towards his face. Cognitive world or not, he’s sure an injury like that would stick regardless of what reality he’s in.

“Still, this is merely just the beginning of your rehabilitation.” Igor gestures with one of his spindly hands, those long, tapered fingers flexing ever so slightly. “The true test for you begins from here on out.”

Greg frowns at that last part from Igor. “Test?” he echoes back in return. What exactly is Igor intending to test him about? And why? There is still so much of the Velvet Room that he doesn’t know about, and as far as he knows all of this isn’t something that Morgana or Ian experience even though they too possesses their own Persona. Why is this only happening to him then?

A low chuckle comes from Igor at Greg’s question. “Your road to innocence will not be an easy one. As you are not a true Trickster, the services that we can provide are much more limited. But nevertheless, we shall do our best to develop the potential within you.”

It’s amazing just how much Igor can seem to say so much but yet not reveal even a single thing at the same time. “Why don’t you actually find a ‘real Trickster’, then? Clearly I’m not the person you want, so why even bother with me?” It’s not exactly a new question from him; it’s definitely come up more than a few times now, especially when the present conversation touches on the whole ‘not really a Trickster’ subject. Greg still has no idea what that fully means, but he understands enough to know that he isn’t the person who’s supposed to be seeing all these bloody doors and be in here talking to Igor and his assistants.

Caroline, predictably, does not take favorably to the question. “Watch your tongue, Suspect!” she warns with another smack of her baton against the table. “Don’t get cocky just because our master gave you some words of praise!”

“Do not blame the suspect, Caroline.” Justine steps in for once, cutting Greg off before he can snap out a retort of his own. “It is his right to ask for answers. Being knowledgeable is one of the ways for his potential to grow, and it is our duty to aid in that growth.”

The answer clearly doesn’t appease Caroline, but for better or for worse she doesn’t respond verbally. All she does is send a glare to Greg (who pointedly ignores it, because he has far better things to do) and shift back into her original position beside the table.

Once Caroline settles back down Igor speaks up again. “We do not question the workings of Fate,” he says, “But you would not be here in the first place if the inevitability was not present within you. Why you are here, and what your future holds… those are for you to discover for yourself. The Velvet Room is here merely to give you aid where you need it.”

That’s still pretty much a non-answer, but at this point Greg supposes this is as much as he can ever get from Igor right now. He bites down a sigh and manages a helpless shrug. “I’m still pretty sure you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Whether that is true remains to be seen.” Igor laces his fingers back together and studies Greg carefully from across the window. “Power itself is never dangerous—what makes it so are the ones who wield it. How will you use your power, Emperor?” He chuckles quietly and Greg swears he can see the smile on his face widen even more. “I look forward to see what you will do next.”

* * *

Two weeks later and it feels as if things had just simply went back to normal.

Greg had received the email from the higher-ups regarding Spencer within the first week. There was a lot of bureaucratic rubbish inside it, but the gist that he got from it was that basically they wouldn’t do anything as long as he kept his mouth shut. In any other time that may have annoyed him (and Donovan certainly was on his behalf once she found out), but this time he was more than okay with them sweeping it under the rug for the most part. Regardless of anything Spencer had confessed—and in public television no less. There was no way he’d be able to escape punishment even if he wanted to, and that was all Greg had wanted; proper justice to be served onto Spencer for all the crimes he had done.

It was all he needed there.

 _What I need, huh._ Greg sighs and brings up his glass to take another mouthful of his beer. It’s Friday night which means the start of the weekend, but Greg can’t find it within himself to be happy about it. It’s definitely been a slow week at work, and while he would have liked that in the past, now what he feels is the itch in his fingers to go out and do something instead. It doesn’t help that he hardly has that much paperwork to do now these days—an indirect result of not being given any big cases. It’s worse now, too, after the whole incident with Spencer. The higher-ups may have turned a blind eye, but the lack of anything beyond small, petty crimes is still pretty telling.

The restlessness he feels at the back of his mind doesn’t help either. Greg swears he can feel his Persona stirring at the back of his mind, crying out its want for righteous justice—things that Greg knows he himself wants. Things he once had freely before now taken away from him, and that injustice causes his own desire for proper justice to burn stronger than ever.

All these years Greg had been in the Yard so because he wanted to do his part to enforce society, but right now that same society has him collared and leashed, trapping him in a prison of standards and rules that don’t play as well with him anymore. There’s a cruel irony to that, and it just makes everything in his current situation sting even more.

Another sigh, another mouthful of beer. As much as the thought of wallowing here is an idea, he supposes he should head home after this drink. It was his place in the rotation of Morgana’s places to stay and he needed to tidy things up a little before the cat came by. He’s heard more than enough comments about how messy his place is from a talking animal of all things.

Greg looks down and picks off the last of his now cold fries, making quick work of them between sips of his drink. After the last fry is eaten he wets his fingers using the condensation on the class and wipes them clean with a napkin. He’s in the middle of that when his phone chimes a message notification tone from his pocket, and hearing the sound of that brings momentary surprise. It wasn’t as if there is anything at work to call him about, so just who could it be?

He finishes wiping his fingers and tosses the now dirtied napkin aside before fishing his phone out. It takes a moment to get the screen on but once it does Greg can’t help but blink for a moment because the message and its sender are the last thing he had expected.

 **FROM:** Unknown  
**TO:** GREG LESTRADE

_A black car will be outside the establishment you’re currently in within the next ten minutes. Please board it._  
_MH_

Greg reads the message again, and then does it yet another time to make sure that he isn’t imagining it. Holmes wanted to see him? That was… certainly unexpected, to put it lightly. The last time they had seen each other was at Sherlock’s grave, and even that had been a coincidence. Since Sherlock had… passed on it wasn’t as if Holmes had any more reason to contact him, but yet for some reason he was asking for a meeting.

For a brief, terrifying moment the thought of Holmes knowing what he did with Spencer crosses his mind, but Greg quickly dismisses it. Even with as smart as Holmes is there’s no way he would be aware of the cognitive world. It was way too deep into the realm of fantasy for something as rational as him. If anything, it was most likely about Spencer—Holmes probably would be able to find out all too easily that Greg had been the one who was placed in charge of the case. Definitely more likely, but still dangerous all the same, considering the full extent of his involvement.

It probably is a very bad idea to face Holmes now, considering his present situation. But Greg can’t exactly say no either—not that he really ever had a choice in the matter. Greg is pretty certain that Holmes is going to be able to tell that something is off when they meet, but trying to back out of it is only going to make him even more suspicious. And having somebody like Mycroft Holmes being suspicious of you is the last thing to do when you want to lay low.

Greg scratches the back of his head and sighs. As much as he knows that saying ‘no’ isn’t an option here, it still doesn’t make anything better. He powers himself up with another drink from his beer before letting himself send his acknowledgement back to Holmes.

 _Maybe next time your warnings can come a little earlier instead._  
_GL_  
__  
He pockets his phone once he’s sent the text, trying not to think about it between now and the next ten minutes. He simply focuses on drinking his beer and making a mental checklist of what to say and what _not_ to say. He couldn’t afford to slip up in front of somebody like Mycroft Holmes—his life may very well be on the line here.

The ten minutes pass by all too quickly, and there’s another buzz in his pocket once the time is up, most likely to signal the arrival of the car. Greg gives himself one more minute just because, using it to down the last of his beer before dragging himself to the counter to settle the bill. There’s no more reason to linger inside once he’s made his payment, and with an internal sigh Greg brings himself out of the establishment. As expected, the car is already there, its door open and waiting for Greg to board.

Greg lets out a slow breath though his nose, steeling himself for whatever may happen next, and gets into the car, closing the door behind him. It only takes a moment for him to settle down on the car’s fancy leather seats, and in the next he sees that Holmes’s assistant is in the car with him, busily tapping away on her Blackberry like every other time he sees her.

“’lo,” he says, mostly out of habit, not at all surprised when all he gets back in return is a soft hum. He’s more than used to her non-responses, and it’s not like he was asking for acknowledgement anyway. It’s just a bit rude to not greet somebody when you meet them, and it’s kind of hard to start anything else as well. At least, that’s what it feels like to Greg, anyway.

The car is already moving so Greg occupies himself by looking out through the tinted windows. There’s not much to see considering it is late at night, but he needs to do something to keep himself distracted, especially when taking out his phone is again not the best idea. Last thing he needs is for Holmes’s assistant to catch wind of him receiving a message from Ian—that connection is something he can’t reveal to anybody, since it could all too easily expose him.

The ride is quiet and uneventful, but also not as long as Greg had expected. He’s a little surprised when he feels the car coming to a stop, shaking himself out from his reverie and focusing on what he can see through the window. The darkness doesn’t help, but Greg is pretty sure that he’s looking the building that houses the Diogenes Club. He doesn’t remember how long it used to take, but he’s pretty certain it wasn’t this short. Then again it is pretty late at night and it has been a while since he was last brought here. He could just be mixing it up with something else.

Either way, it doesn’t matter right now. Greg gets out of the car as soon as the door opens, giving his legs a good stretch to wake them up again after that ride. Close by he hears the soft click of the high heels that Holmes’s assistant always wears, and Greg looks to his right to see her walking up to him, her eyes still glued onto the Blackberry.

“Past three rooms, second door on the right,” she informs him briskly. “Mr. Holmes will be waiting for you there.”

Greg swallows down the lump in his throat and nods. “Right.”

Satisfied with his acknowledgement, she waves goodbye with her hand before heading back to the car. Greg watches her for a moment before he turns to look at the building and begins climbing up the steps to the door. He hears the car start up as he does so, and when he glances back the car is already turning around the corner and vanishes from his sight soon after.

Well, no point dawdling here. Greg looks back to the door and reaches to grasp the ornate door knocker, using it to tap against the surface lightly. He steps back after doing so and waits; in a few seconds the door opens up, and a smartly dressed usher is there to greet him.

“Welcome to the Diogenes Club, sir,” he says just loud enough for Greg to hear. “Do you have an appointment?”

Greg remembers back in the past when he was more used to all of this, but right now he feels just like he did in the past when he came here the very first time—that had been not longer after encountering Sherlock. It was all too easy to feel like he was a fish out of water. Years have passed since then and obviously a lot has happened, but that feeling had never quite entirely faded. Now with recent events, it had all but reared its head back up, shaking the little confidence he already had initially.

He can’t back down, though. This is the path he’s chosen, and he has to face everything that comes with it.

“Yeah,” Greg replies with a nod. “I’m meeting Mycroft Holmes.”

The usher’s face brightened up instantly at the mention of Holmes’s name. “Ah, yes, I have been told that he is expecting a visitor.” He takes a step back and gestures for him to enter. “Mr. Holmes is waiting for you in his room. Do you need me to bring you there?”

Technically Greg doesn’t need help since he has already been given directions by Holmes’s assistant, but he isn’t that all keen to go around stumbling on the possible chance that he gets lost. Better to just play it safe.

He looks at the usher and nods again. “Um, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” The usher takes a few more steps back so that Greg can properly enter the building, and the door automatically swings shut behind him. “Please, follow me.”

He begins to move after saying that and Greg follows behind, making sure to keep his head low when he passes by the other rooms. Even to Greg most of the people in here are old, and he can feel the weight of their gazes on his back, can feel their silent, unspoken judgements. He doesn’t know how anybody can put up with this on a daily bases, but Greg supposes that this really isn’t his kind of world in the end.

At least the fact that it’s this late means that there isn’t too many people around the club. Greg focuses on his mental checklist from the bar, reviewing it again in his head to ensure that he hasn’t missed anything important. He more or less finishes it just as the usher comes to a stop in front of a door that Greg assumes is where Holmes’s room is.

The usher turns towards him and gives a bow before taking his leave and leaving Greg alone at the corridor. As much as Greg wants to take his time the awkwardness of standing out here is not that much better. At the very least inside the room gives some semblance of privacy.

Greg takes in a quiet breath and steels himself before he reaches to knock gently at the door to signal his presence. He waits to hear the muffled acknowledgement from inside to enter and then does so.

The room is at least more of a familiar sight to Greg—as far as he can remember almost every room he’s been in the Diogenes Club has all looked more or less the same, maybe minus a bookshelf or two. Holmes is already seated at one of the two armchairs set in the middle of the room, his hands clasped on top his lap. His gaze seems distant for a moment, but then flicks up to Greg and focuses back once the door closes behind him.

“Inspector,” he greets, then gestures to the unoccupied armchair. “Please, sit.”

Greg goes to do so, every part of him still apprehensive of whatever might happen. As much as he knows that it should not be possible Greg can’t help himself from dwelling on the idea that Holmes knew about the cognitive world and brought him here to confront him about it. Greg has no doubt that in that particular scenario he would very likely be arrested—if he himself had so many doubts about what he had done with Spencer, he’s certain that Holmes has at least a thousand more.

The clinking sound of teacups gets his attention, and Greg turns to see Holmes currently pouring out some tea for himself. Holmes notices his gaze quickly and gives him a faint smile as he sets the teapot back down onto the table. “Feel free to take some, if you wish.”

Greg shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He had his beer back at the bar anyway, and if has to ingest more liquid—especially alcohol—it might not end well. Plus the sooner Holmes finishes whatever business he wants with him, the better. Staying under the eyes of somebody like Mycroft Holmes for an extended period of time is definitely the last thing he wants to do.

Holmes briefly regards him with a look at that response. “Very well,” he says after a moment’s pause, leaving the teapot aside now in favor of attending to… whatever business that he wanted with him. Greg still isn’t entirely sure what this would be about beyond the recent case with Spencer.

He blinks when Holmes sets his gaze upon him again, but instead of talking the man simply remains quiet and keeps looking at him. From his experiences with Sherlock it’s always been a prelude to something he doesn’t want, but unlike Sherlock he can’t exactly back off or change the topic of discussion; all Greg can do is to be as prepared as he can be for whatever it is that Holmes manages to deduce out of him.

He waits and tries not to let his rising anxiety get the best of him as the silence stretches between them, telling himself to keep his mind off anything about the cognitive world, just in case Holmes can actually read it off the way he fidgets or something equally impossible. But as much as he tries, there’s only so much Greg can take when he’s already so tense. He opens his mouth, about to ask Holmes to actually start on why he brought him here when he’s abruptly cut off by Holmes himself.

“I understand that you were originally in charge of the case with Robert Spencer,” he begins by saying that, and despite everything Greg can’t quite stop the snort that escapes him. He doesn’t know why Holmes is being coy about that when they both bloody well know that Holmes probably just looked it up.

Holmes raises his eyebrow ever so slightly at the snort, but doesn’t comment further on it and keeps on speaking as if nothing had happened. “As you may have guessed, Spencer’s sudden… confession has been incredibly unexpected.”

‘Unexpected’ is definitely one way to describe it. Greg doesn’t really need to fake the grimace that appears on his face, even if the reason for it isn’t exactly for the usual reasons. “Yeah. Didn’t expect it myself either.” That wasn’t much of a lie too—he honestly had not expected things to go down like they did after he had his ‘change of heart’.

“So you understand why I have asked you here today.” Holmes leans forward and regards Greg with a critical look, and the next words that he says has Greg’s blood freezing in his veins. “You are one of the last people Spencer had contact with before his abrupt change. Did you notice anything strange when you were in contact with him?”

Oh god. How should he answer that question? A mild panic starts rising up from within him but Greg forces it back down before it gets too much. _Don’t panic. Calm down._ He needs to calm down and keep his head clear. This didn’t mean that Holmes is suspecting him—with the supernatural nature of it all the most probable explanation is that Holmes is trying to find any kind of clue behind Spencer’s change of heart. Had it been anybody else Greg knows that they wouldn’t be able to find anything, but since the one now trying to figure it out is Holmes himself…

Greg notices that Holmes is looking at him now with the same kind of scrutiny that Sherlock had and quickly tries to gather his wits back together. He seriously can’t afford to slip up unless he intends to be behind bars for an indefinite period of time.

“As far as I can tell he was the asshole I’ve been told that he always has been.” Well, had been at this point now. Greg still can’t quite bring himself to recall the news conference. “I’ve only talked to him that one time, though, so I can’t say if there was anything weird about him.”

Holmes lets out a soft hum. “You were researching his associates as well. Did you find anything odd about them?”

“You mean aside from the fact he paid them off?” Greg hadn’t looked into that as much as he normally would, mostly because he knew it had been useless. Also by that point he was already busy infiltrating Spencer’s Palace, and back then he didn’t exactly have the mental resources to keep up his attempts of research. There was kind of a lot going on at the time. “Not really. Pretty much all of them were shady bastards, but with Spencer protecting them there wasn’t anything I could do.”

Nothing he could have done except to infiltrate Spencer’s Palace and steal his Treasure. To change his heart and force him to confess his crimes. It had sounded so good and easy then, his surefire way out of the whole mess he had gotten himself into. But now that everything is said and done and Spencer is (hopefully) behind bars Greg can’t help but dwell on the morality of the whole issue. Was what he had done truly the right thing to do? He honestly wishes he had an answer for it, but he knows better than to think that there will ever be one. Or at least, one that’s fully right.

Greg breaks out from his thoughts once again when he hears Holmes speak. “I see. What about the accused, Ian Parker? Did he do anything that warranted suspicion?”

This was going to be the tricky part. His association with Ian was definitely already beyond copper and civilian even back before either of them got into the cognitive world. If Holmes got a hold of that…

“Not any that I can think of.” Greg hopes his voice is actually coming out as steady as he hopes it is, because he certainly doesn’t feel that way right now. “He was desperate to prove himself innocent, but it’s not like there was anything he could do against somebody like Spencer.”

Holmes studies him with another look after that response. “Nothing suspicious at all?” he asks again, and Greg is pretty sure he can hear the terseness in his voice there, which takes him by surprise. Did Holmes really have no idea at all, or…?

As much as Greg feels a fair amount of sympathy for Holmes there’s no way he can let him know anything. “Yeah. Nothing at all.”

Holmes looks at him some more now and Greg can only hope that he’s managed to be convincing enough. Greg doubts that he can fully fool him, but at least he can try to shake off that initial suspicion. At least then he has the extra time to figure out what to do next.

The next couple of moments feel like they stretch out into minutes. Holmes continues to stare at him and Greg keeps telling himself to keep his cool, fists clenching and unclenching against his pockets. He can do this. He has to do this. He can’t slip up here.

Greg doesn’t know exactly how long that silent showdown lasts, but eventually Holmes is the one who breaks it. He shifts his gaze over to the by now cooled cup of tea and picks it up to drink from it. Greg watches him do that for half a moment before he closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe.

Holmes is still drinking his tea when Greg opens his eyes, and he gives it a half a minute more before speaking up. “Is that all you want to ask? If so then I’m going to leave.”

He waits to see if Holmes gives him any sort of response, but none seem forthcoming. With nothing to work with all Greg can do is to take his silence as an affirmation and so moves to stand up from his chair. He looks at Holmes again but the man still hasn’t said anything, so Greg makes his way to the door. With every step that he takes Greg keeps expecting Holmes to say something that would make him stop moving—some information, the truth, anything at all. But all that Greg continues to get is silence even when he gets all the way to the door.

Greg pauses for a moment once he’s at the door, and by this point no matter how he tries he can hear his heart pounding rapidly in his chest from all the uncertainty that’s built up inside him. God, he’s being so fucking obvious at this point that Holmes is going to figure it out the moment he so much as looks at him.

Time to get out of here. Greg takes a breath and then reaches out for the handle, fingers curling around it—

“Before you go, Inspector, I’d like to ask you about one more thing.”

Greg instantly freezes up, every part of him screaming to just get away as fast as he could. But there’s no way that he can escape from Mycroft Holmes so Greg doesn’t even try. His anxiety is in overdrive now but he still can’t show that, and all he can do is hope that Holmes doesn’t have some magical super hearing ability to hear how his heart is right now as he turns around to face him.

“Y-Yeah?” he manages to croak out the question, just barely.

He can feel Holmes’s gaze on him once more, a chill passing through his body as the fear becomes all the more present. Greg holds his breath as a moment passes, and then two, then three—

“A few days before Spencer’s confession it is rumored that he received a ‘calling card’ from some petty vigilante group.” Holmes leans forward at this point, ice-cold gaze boring straight into him while his hands are already locked in his own version of the thinking pose. “Do you know anything about that, by any chance?”

Greg really shouldn’t be so surprised that Holmes is asking about the calling card considering the fact that Spencer did make something of a din about it on the papers. Even though he knows it would come up eventually being asked about it like this still momentarily catches him off-guard. The calling card… Greg had been extremely reluctant to do it, but Morgana had said that it was a necessary step. He did get the logic behind it after the cat had explained it, but even after that… Greg supposes he’s just not comfortable with putting themselves out there to the public eye, and this is one of the many reasons why. Attracting attention was always dangerous in more ways than one, and this is one of said dangers.

But still, these same dangers are what he has to live with now because of his decision. Greg wills himself to keep his calm and maintain his composure as he slowly turns back around to face Holmes.

“Not a clue,” he answers, and just like earlier all Greg can hope is that he sounds convincing enough to Holmes’s ears. “Spencer only talked about it in the papers and refused to let the Yard have it.” Even after his arrest Greg hadn’t heard anything about the card as well—in all likelihood Spencer had gotten rid of the card after reporting about it to the press.

Once again Holmes gives him a look, and this time Greg feels like he’s being studied from head to toe. It’s not a new experience after his years of association with both of the Holmes, but unlike all the other times there were some things that he really has to hide this time. Greg doesn’t care if he takes the fall, but he doesn’t want Ian to be involved as collateral. The other had gone through enough already and certainly didn’t need more trauma on top of it.

Greg forces himself to stand his ground even though the growing scrutiny makes him want to back away—that’s definitely something he can’t do. He returns the look that Holmes gives him with one of his own, silently challenging him like the idiot he had always been assumed to be. Maybe if he keeps this up for long enough then Holmes would actually back off, even if only for a while.

The moments stretch again as Greg waits to see what Holmes would do or say next. Did the man already suspect him and would arrest him right here? Or was he going to use that knowledge and blackmail him somehow? Greg can’t exactly imagine Mycroft not using something like this to his advantage, even if he may justify it as for the sake of the country. The power to change hearts could easily bring about a great many things when used in certain ways.

Just like before, Holmes is the one who eventually moves first. He hums and turns his gaze away from Greg, looking at the table and moves to pick up his tea. “The car will be outside. Just tell the driver where to go and he will drop you there.”

There’s an instinctive reaction to snap out something along the lines of ‘pretty sure I can get back myself’, but it’s already been a trying few weeks and the last thing Greg wants to do is to actually antagonize Mycroft Holmes. Besides, this is basically a dismissal and Greg is more than ready to bolt out of here now that the opportunity presents itself.

“Right.” Greg nods to show that he’s heard him and then turns back to face the door. This time he doesn’t dawdle and quickly reaches for the handle, unceremoniously opening the door up. For a moment he thinks about at least saying goodbye, but after that dismissal he doubts that Holmes is going to pay attention to him anymore, which is exactly what he wants. Best to not ruin that.

Still, he can’t quite stop himself from looking over his shoulder as he takes his leave out of the room, looking back at Holmes one more time before he turns into the hallway and the door closes back shut after. The usher from before is already standing outside of the room, gesturing for Greg to follow him. Greg does so and is swiftly escorted back out to the main entrance of the Diogenes Club.

The usher bows at him as Greg steps past the threshold and back outside of the building. “Please come again, sir.”

“Uh, yeah.” Greg is pretty sure that the chances of him ever coming back here are slim, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. The car that brought him here earlier is indeed already waiting for him at the very same spot where it dropped him off (or it could very well be a different car, all of these black government vehicles looked exactly like each other), so Greg waves goodbye to the usher and heads over to the car. The driver isn’t out to open the door for him this time, so Greg simply does it himself and boards it,

The divider inside the car is down this time when Greg gets inside, which means that the driver knows when Greg has fully settled in and thus only speaks at that point. “Where to, sir?”

The answer is easy enough here. “My place.” At least this part of the aftermath is still more or less the same. The moment the car starts to move Greg lets himself decompress, sighing as all the tension in his body finally eases up. Everything there in the meeting had felt way too close for his tastes, and the worst part is that he can’t be sure at all if Holmes is suspicious of him already. The paranoid part of him definitely says yes, but getting all worked up over possibly nothing right now wouldn’t help as well.

He thinks about asking Ian on what to do but quickly dismisses the idea in the same breadth. Right now Ian still has the aftermath of his brother’s murder to deal with now that Spencer has confessed to the crime, and Greg doesn’t want to burden him with more issues. Besides, Holmes is his problem to deal with, and getting Ian involved would probably just make things worse since it’d only blatantly show the connection that he still had with Ian.

Greg sighs again. There’s really not much he can do right now with regards to Holmes, but perhaps that is for the best. Going up against a Holmes is not ideal in anyway, and especially so when there are so many other things that require his attention. Since Mycroft hasn’t done anything to him Greg can only assume that he’s still in the dark and proceed from there—and this time with more caution.

Right now the best thing to do is to continue to keep his head low. Even if it seems like the public has quietened back down Greg has no doubt that others who had been in cahoots with Spencer will be on the lookout. Until everything regarding Spencer is fully dealt with he’ll stay as DI Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard.

Greg wants to say that it’ll be easy for him, but yet the restlessness at the back of his mind is making him feel otherwise.

He just hopes it won’t be the death of him.

* * *

Another full two weeks pass in relative peace for the most part. From time to time Greg gets updates about Spencer’s case from Ian, but they hadn’t properly met up since the last time after Spencer’s live confession. In that time the public seemed to have all but forgotten about the issue—or at least had already moved on to more recent topics. While that is a little bit odd Greg isn’t going to question it; it’s for the best that the topic has died down anyway.

Still, even then, it’s clear to Greg that the dust hasn’t settled for him just yet. Even now all the cases that gets assigned to him are petty ones that aren’t even in his division, and those that are actual homicides are simply cold cases from long ago. Greg does all of them but it’s hard to quell his rapidly growing frustration. He needs to keep low and not do anything stupid but the itch is always there at the back of his mind, urging him on to go out and do something like he should.

Maybe if he had been twenty years younger Greg would have given in to that desire, but the many years have helped to temper him. So even though every part of his mind screams for him to do something rash and impulsive he resists otherwise, keeping himself confined to his office and staring at paperwork all day. Sure, a part of him hates it, at least he won’t regret it when he actually gets himself suspended from work. The stuff with Sherlock had already left him on thin ice, but now with Spencer’s case on top of him Greg won’t be surprised if he’s suspended just because he looked at somebody wrong or some equally ridiculous reason.

Christ, office politics. Greg doesn’t know why people get so caught up in that when there were much more important things to do. Coppers were supposed to be people who would protect the people in need and catch the bad guys, not be bundled down by paperwork and politics. Its days like these where Greg questions himself on what he does. He wants to do good where he can, but how can he do that when there are things like these that get in his way?

Greg throws his pen down onto the table and leans back against his chair, letting out a sigh as shuts his eyes and rubs his forehead to quell down the headache that’s growing between his temples. His mood for paperwork is most definitely gone now after having all these thoughts in his mind. God, he misses the days where he could run around like before. Even if Sherlock had been a twat and got him into trouble almost all the time it had been worth it for all the cases that had been solved. So many people had been helped and he could do what he always wanted to do when he first dreamed about joining the force.

He pulls his hand away slightly and opens his eyes, staring blankly at his hand as his mind goes back to the stuff that happened a month ago. That week where he and Ian infiltrated Spencer’s Palace with the help of Morgana, the adrenaline that pumped through his veins and that feeling of being _right_ every time he summoned forth Arthur. It had been the most alive he ever felt in so long despite everything. And as much as he tries to deny it, Greg knows that if given adequate reason he would be more than happy to go back and do it again.

…or rather, if he were to be really honest with himself, he doesn’t even really need an adequate reason at all. Just as long as he has any reason at all to justify it to himself. Despite all the dangers that he had to face and the questionable ethics of it all, he would still do it. He’d do it because even with all the questions that plague him, he did help to make a difference—a good one. Spencer would have continued with what he was doing, left entirely unchecked because he had everyone else under his thumb. The law wouldn’t have been able to do anything to him and Greg knows that for a fact. How else could Spencer have been so brazen without the fear of being arrested?

Plus if he went further on that train of thought… Greg grits his teeth as a few unfavorable possibilities float to the forefront of his mind. None of them were good and if any of them were true at all, then the Yard was in far worse shape than Greg could have ever expected it to be. No matter how many good people there are in here, as long as they weren’t the ones that mattered then nothing could be accomplished. It was definitely a sobering thought.

He wonders if things like these had been the real reason why Sherlock was so adamant about working outside of the police. Sure, there were the other obvious reasons as to why he didn’t like the Yard but the way Sherlock said it then had always felt like an excuse more than anything. Not to mention all the times Sherlock sneered at Greg working in the Yard; back then he just brushed it off and thought of it as Sherlock simply being well, Sherlock, but maybe there was a bit more to it than simply that. Either way, it’s not like he can ask Sherlock about stuff like this now, what with him being dead and all.

Yet another sobering thought there. It’s been a while since Sherlock’s death had come back to haunt him, probably because he had been so busy and/or occupied with everything else that’s been happening in his life. It’s hard to believe just a little over a month ago he was struggling to arrest Spencer; these days he feels a bit more like his former self. Perhaps it’s the success of Spencer that has emboldened him, despite the fact that the aftermath still left him with more questions than answers. Everything that the cognitive world is, what it could do and its entire existence in the first place.... those were the kinds of mysteries Sherlock would have leapt on instantly.

For a moment he thinks if John would have liked to take a gander at it, but dismisses that idea before it takes root. Ever since the funeral John still hasn’t so much as looked him in the eye, and the few times Greg mustered up the courage to go to 221B had quickly ended with the door being slammed shut in his face.

It’s hard to blame John for his actions—it’s clear to everyone that Sherlock had been a big part of John’s life, and the events that led to Sherlock’s death had been painful at best, traumatizing at worst. It’s perfectly understandable why John was still in that stage of grieving, but he also hopes that eventually John will find the strength to move on. They all had to move on eventually. The world wasn’t going to stop for anybody, not even if that person is Sherlock Holmes.

Greg exhales loudly through his nose and drops his hand, shifting to lean back even further against his chair. Maybe he should try and reach out to John again, especially since it had been a while since the last time. He’s fully expecting silence but it never hurts to try. Leaving John alone to wallow in his regrets and sorrows isn’t a thing he can simply do either, especially when Anderson had been the result of that.

God, Anderson. The thought of him these days has Greg squeeze his eyes shut as he wills down another growing headache. That man has only gotten worse and worse in the weeks that has passed; at this point he’s just two steps away from complete suspension and even possibly being fired. Donovan had pretty much given up trying to talk sense into him by this point, and Greg can’t really protect him anymore either, not with Spencer’s whole case still officially on his head.

Greg wants to say that he is petty and believes that this is what Anderson deserves, but he knows better than that. They had all been played by Moriarty, used as his unknowing pawns in whatever twisted game he had with Sherlock. And that too was one of the many things he’ll never know either. It’s aggravating just how many things he’s in the dark about; he should be better than this. He has to be better than this, now.

Too many thoughts in his head now. Greg shakes his head and clears them out, eyes landing on his empty cup (a new one, having replaced the one he had broken) of coffee. It might be a good idea to go to the pantry and make himself a fresh cup of coffee—stretching his legs and walking a little will definitely help to clear his mind better. A short break, then he can start fresh on all the paperwork he had been neglecting in the last fifteen minutes while he had been lost in his thoughts.

Decision made, Greg goes ahead to do just that. He stands up from his chair and takes a moment to stretch his back, hearing the pops in his spine and immediately feeling better for it. Once that’s done he grabs his mug and steps out of his office, making a quick beeline towards the pantry. There isn’t really anybody there when he steps in, which he supposes isn’t all that surprising, and in a way he’s thankful for it. Constantly getting all the looks from the others had never been fun in any sense of the word.

Since it had been a few hours since he had finished his coffee Greg makes sure to rinse out his cup first to get rid of all the dregs. Once that’s done he grabs the instant coffee mix from the shelves and measures out the adequate amount to put in his cup, followed by the also adequate amount of hot water from the electric kettle (that really needed to be replaced soon from the looks of its wiring). No sugar or milk for him as he prefers his coffee black most of the time—the sweetness is only reserved for when he really needs the energy boost.

As he stirs to mix his coffee together Greg feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. He instinctively goes to fish out his phone, more prompt about reading his messages these days after the one time he forgot to read a message Ian had sent him and the other had gone on his case about it. To be fair it had been an important message, and Greg really should have known better. It’s definitely a lesson he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

He sees from the notification that the message is indeed from Ian; definitely more reason to read it as soon as possible. Greg unlocks his phone and goes to his texts, then taps on Ian’s message to open it fully—

“Sir? Are you there?”

Oh crap. Greg quickly presses the power button to lock his phone back up and attempts to smoothly slide it back into his pocket. It goes… decently well, for the most part.

Donovan raises an eyebrow at him. “Am I interrupting something, sir?”

Greg shakes his head. “No, just deleting some spam off my email.” Time to quickly change the subject before she could start questioning it further. “Did you need me for something?”

“Yeah.” Donovan nods her head as she replies. “Just wanted to let you know that I heard some… really concerning news.”

Well that was… a little vague. Greg frowns a little and tries to puzzle out what she means but to no avail. “What kind of concerning news?”

Donovan sighs this time. “What else can it be? Spencer, of course.”

Now that is something he did not expect, especially considering the very public confession and the fact that Spencer is already behind bars. “What about him? Did something happen to him in prison?” That… well, Greg isn’t entirely sure what to do if it came down to that. Criminals already behind bars are not his division.

“No, worse than that.” Her expression is serious now, and that certainly doesn’t bode well for whatever news that she’s about to say. “Apparently an appeal was put for his sentence. And the appeal is approved.”

Wait, what? Greg stares at Donovan in shock, his mind struggling to process this new (terrible) information. “An appeal? What in the hell was the appeal even based on?”

“Seems to be something along the lines of ‘mental breakdown’.” Donovan’s face is now grim, and she shakes her head briefly before continuing to speak. “I mean, the whole thing with his public apology did come from pretty much nowhere. Whoever filed that appeal probably used that as the basis. It’s not like we can refute it either, since that very same apology is why the Yard could even arrest Spencer in the first place.”

Greg doesn’t need to be told any of that to know—what worries him more is the exact nature of the appeal, and what was going to happen to Spencer now because of the appeal. He didn’t want to think of the worst case scenario but Spencer did have a lot of connections in many places, even if most of those connections were made through his blackmail collection. Or rather, it is because of the fact that most of his connections were from his blackmail business that has Greg worrying. He can easily imagine a few scenarios that might play out depending on the people who confront Spencer as he is now.

Either way, the best place for Spencer to be now in is in jail, as ironic as it is. “Do we have any details on the appeal?”

Donovan shakes her head once again. “None that I heard. You’re probably the only one who can ask for that, since you were technically in charge of Spencer’s initial charges.” The unspoken _but it probably won’t come_ is there too, and they both know it. There is no way the higher ups were going to give him anything at all, considering how they felt about the whole case and Greg’s involvement in it. Sure, Greg could try, but with his current standing he knows better than to push his luck. That just left him with one other way to get the details… and now Greg can also guess the contents of the text Ian had sent to him.

Greg shifts and picks up his coffee, then glances over to Donovan. “I’ll see what I can do. You make sure to stay low and don’t do or say anything rash.” It’s all too easy to sense her frustration, and as much as Greg shares the same sentiment doing anything stupid was not going to be of any help. They were just two people in this whole system of general clusterfucks.

Those words earn him a small snort from Donovan. “You put too little faith in me, sir.”

“I think I put the exact amount of faith in you.”

“Arse.” Donovan is rolling her eyes, but the smile on her face kind of ruins the effect that she had been intending. “I’ll be fine, sir, don’t worry about me. You just take care of yourself.”

“I’ll let you know if I get anything,” he promises her, then quickly takes his leave to hurry back to the relative privacy of his office. He closes the door once he’s in and takes a sip of his coffee to freshen himself up before setting it on the table. He’s definitely going to need to be awake for whatever happens next.

He takes a moment to glance out of the window facing the office to ensure that he’s in the clear before looking back to his hand. It’s already holding his phone, so it’s a quick step from there to unlock it and pull back up the message that he received from Ian when he had been in the pantry.

 **FROM:** IAN PARKER  
**TO:** GREG LESTRADE

Appeal of Spencer’s case approved. Need to plan next course of action.  
The office, 10pm.

Greg doesn’t even need a moment to consider his response. He quickly types out his reply and sends it to Ian immediately.

_Will be there._  
_GL_

* * *

“I can’t believe they actually accepted the appeal! I mean, what the hell are they even on?”

Ian is pacing around the office, his expression one of immense irritation. It’s a feeling that Greg can understand, since he’s feeling a fair amount of that annoyance as well. He’s just had more years of dealing with it—but it’s also the fact that this case is far more personal for Ian than it is for him, since the charge of his brother’s murder is still there.

Greg gives him a few more paces before he sighs and speaks. “Getting angry isn’t going to help us, Ian. Spencer had a lot of connections from what he did—something like this happening had always been a possibility.”

From his spot on the table Morgana stretches out and gives his own agreement to Greg’s words. “Losing your temper isn’t going to help with the situation.”

Ian pauses in his pacing and looks at Greg. “Ok, sure, the possibility is there, but I would have wagered that it would be pretty low considering the fact that Spencer confessed to everything on live television.” At this point Ian had shifted from pacing about to pulling at his hair instead, the stress quite visible on his face. “How do you even manage to get an appeal in after something like that?”

Greg glances at the television screen set in the room from the corner of his eye. “Well, in the first place Spencer’s change and confession had been rather sudden for everybody else. It’s entirely possible for somebody to use that to their advantage.” Which, according to Donovan, had been exactly what had happened.

A snarl of frustration comes from Ian. “Yeah, so I heard. A mental breakdown...” He goes to his seat and plops himself onto it, then sags down with a loud sigh. “What was the point of doing everything if the appeal is going to undo it all?”

‘Undo it all’? Those were some particular choice of words. Greg feels a slight frown coming onto his face. “What do you mean, ‘undo it all’?”

“You—oh, I haven’t told you.” Ian straightens back up in his seat and gives Greg a grim look. “The appeal calls for a reevaluation of Spencer’s crimes along with his mental state, most especially during his recent ones. They say that he has not been of sound mind for a while and the murder brought it to a head. They want to have Spencer go through a psychiatric evaluation.”

Greg’s frown deepens further. Basically the appeal was aiming to file a plea of insanity for Spencer? If that went through there’s definitely a fair chance that Spencer’s sentence would be lightened, and instead of a prison he’d be instead put in a mental facility. If that was the case, then…

“Well, he definitely can’t get away entirely scot-free no matter what.” Greg hums and takes a drink from the glass of water that Ian had poured for him earlier. “But being in a mental facility will make getting to him easier, for whatever it is that the appealers would be planning.”

The corner of Ian’s lips twist as he scowls. “Whatever it is, it won’t be good. I want him to pay for his crimes properly. He can’t do that if he’s dead.”

Spencer certainly can’t do that if he’s dead. Greg thinks back briefly to when they had confronted Spencer’s Shadow after defeating his monstrous form, when Ian was so full of anger that he would be willing to kill. He hadn’t in the last moment, and when Morgana mentioned that Ian had said something along those lines too. Whether Ian made his decision out of kindness or malice though is perhaps something he could never be entirely sure about.

Morgana shifts to settle down on his haunches and looks towards Ian. “So, what do you wanna do? Should we do something about the people who made that appeal?”

“I—” Ian starts and then pauses, visibly hesitating. He opens and closes his mouth a few more times after that but no other words come through. Eventually Ian lets out another sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, finally speaking up properly. “—I don’t know. Well, we’re jumping ahead of ourselves in the first place. There wasn’t a name for the person who filed the appeal.”

No name for the appeal? What? Was that even possible? “How could the name just be left out like that?” That certainly didn’t seem like it should happen.

“I certainly wish I knew.” Ian scowls again, his frustration clear as day. “But there was no name. I saw it myself when I was shown the appeal.”

Greg mulls over the whole issue in his head. The most probable reason he can think of is that the appeal was modified after it had been sent in, but there’s not many that can edit an appeal like this and go unchecked. The people he can think of who would have the authority to do that would be…

“I’ll look into it when I’m in the Yard.” It certainly felt like there might be something from his side now that he has more information about this whole appeal. “I’ll text you if I find something that helps.”

“At this point anything at all would be helpful.” Ian’s smile is wry this time, but at least he’s no longer scowling. “I really appreciate it, Greg. You’ve done way too much for me.”

Greg quickly waves off the gratitude before it becomes too much for him. “Spencer was a problem for me too. I’m just glad we could help each other out where it mattered.” Even with his Persona Greg seriously doubted he would have been able to handle everything that Spencer’s Palace was throwing at him. Morgana was around to help as well of course, but Greg definitely had not been able to maintain a constant full frontal assault all by himself. Even though initially Greg had been reluctant to let Ian do this, now he is glad that he at least has somebody else to talk with about all of this. He couldn’t imagine handling all of this by himself.

“Sometimes I can’t help but think its fate that had us meet each other.” Ian glances between him and Morgana now, an almost wistful expression on his face. “I mean, it is probably just coincidence, but… I’m glad we all could meet each other.” He pauses for a moment then and lets out a chuckle. “Sorry. That was pretty cheesy.”

Morgana shakes his head and grins mischievously. “Things were a little rocky at the start, but at least now we’re a proper team! Phantom thieves work best when they’re a group, after all.”

Greg arches an eyebrow at the cat’s direction. “I don’t ever recall us being thieves.”

“Whaaaat?” Morgana sounds as if he doesn’t know if he should be shocked or insulted. Or maybe he’s expressing both of those emotions at the same time. Either way, the face he gives to Greg is not one of approval. “I mean, we broke into an actual palace Palace and stole the Treasure! If that isn’t the mark of phantom thievery, then what else would it be?”

To that Greg can only respond with… well, all Greg can really do is to make a face, unwilling to let himself verbally answer the question. It’s not as if he wants to disagree with Morgana, but at the same time putting a name to all of this gives more than a few implications that Greg isn’t quote ready to address yet. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be ready, honestly speaking. It’s still been one step at a time for him for most of all of this.

He isn’t sure if Ian had actually noticed his growing discomfort over the issue, but either way the man smoothly changes the subject before it gets any deeper. “Whatever the case, we’re all in this together, like it or not. And right now we need to make sure that Spencer can’t escape from his crimes after all the trouble we went through to make him turn himself in.”

Both he and Morgana nod in agreement—those words are something that at least all three of them can agree with. “If or when I manage to find something new, I’ll let you guys know.”

“You’ll find something, I just know it.” Ian’s expression is one of determination now, a tenacity to not back down that Greg can see and respect. “We managed with Spencer, and we’ll be sure to manage this one too.”

Greg certainly hopes that that will be the case.

* * *

A week passes by and Greg finds himself making almost zero progress in his investigation. He’s tried scouring through the records and looking through files when he can manage it, but anything he comes across doesn’t give him anything that he isn’t already aware of. He’s tried with luck with Donovan as well, but she hasn’t heard much either, and Greg certainly doesn’t want to put her in the line of fire over something she isn’t even a part of.

Still, he can’t give up. Greg holds on to the tenacity that has kept him going all this time and double checks all his sources, attempting to see if there’s anything that he might have missed. Nothing comes up at him, but at least the stuff he does know seems to check out as the truth, which is still useful in its own way.

But try as he might Greg knows that the lack of more information is a huge obstacle in anything that he and Ian and Morgana could do. The fact that he has to do all this investigation is secret is another factor in the lack of progress as well—it’s hard to keep his work private in an environment where there’s always somebody who stays back late. In the past Greg could easily get away with staying back every night due to all the work he had, but these days his group is barely assigned anything at all; it seems like the higher ups have given up on even keeping his team occupied with cold cases.

With not much time left before Spencer’s appeal, Greg is eventually forced to more drastic actions. He returns to the Yard on a late Friday night, where at least majority of the people would have left for the weekend. It’s a simple enough matter to flash his pass at the check-in counter and make up an excuse of having forgotten something in his office to be allowed entry, and once he’s in Greg quickly puts his plan into motion.

He goes to his office and takes the box of paracetamol from his desk first, just to give his excuse some validity to it, then hurries over to the records room from there. It’s not a room he goes to as often these days due to his lack of cases, but it’s probably his best chance to get something. The records would have had the files pertaining to Spencer’s arrest and his appeal, and with it the name of whoever it is that made the appeal. A name had to be given for it to go into the records in the first place, and even if it had been edited out after the fact then at least there should be a record of whoever it was that did the edit or had given the authority to approve of it. It is a bit of a gamble, but right now it’s the best chance that he has.

It’s a quick enough walk from his office to where the records room is, and fortunately he hasn’t bumped into anybody on the way over. Greg is pretty sure that nobody has seen him too, though he obviously can’t say for the cameras. There’s no hiding from those, but unless somebody actively reviews the footage he should be safe for the most part. It’s yet another gamble, but it’s all he can do right now.

The lights in the records room automatically light up upon his entry into the room, but Greg quickly turns them off, not risking any chance of drawing attention. The computer that looks up the files is at least left on, most probably a result of somebody forgetting to shut it down (again). While usually an annoyance, at least it works in his favor this time, and Greg’s going to take whatever small fortunes that he can have.

He quickly goes to settle down on the chair and pulls up the browser for the archives, making sure that the previous user had been logged out—he could have used their account to hide himself, yes, but Greg doesn’t really want to throw anybody under the bus. That would simply make him just as bad as people like Spencer.

Once he’s certain that the last user is logged out Greg enters his login information. Well, technically it’s not quite his, since it’s a temporary user that the IT people had given to him. To prepare for this Greg had lied and said that he lost the information for his account, and he had been given a temporary account while waiting for his account to be reset. It’s not exactly the best cover up, but once again it’s all that he’s got.

Greg types in his (temporary) login information and holds his breath in the three seconds it takes for the system to log him in. The moment he gets in Greg quickly starts on his search for the appeals. It’s been a while since he’s had to access those kinds of files and so its takes a bit of navigation for him to find his way there. But he eventually gets there, and once the page for the appeals loads up fully Greg properly begins on his search.

Latest appeals… search… Spencer… there it was. Greg mutters a few quiet words of congratulations to himself once he finds the search result for Spencer’s appeal. He clicks the link and opens it up, not at all surprised to see the edited version of the appeal being shown. This was where he needed to start digging deeper.

Twenty years of being in the Met has at least given him some extra knowledge on certain things that others may not be aware of. Greg starts going through the options provided, trying to find one that is close enough to a history. If he had his normal account it probably would be easier, since the temporary account has a fair number of functions disabled for security reasons. There were ways to go around that, of course, ways that Greg is making use of now as he clicks the links he’s made sure to memorize and manages to get his way to the appropriate section.

He does a little mental cheer to himself once the page loads up. He starts scrolling through the section, going through the last histories of Spencer’s appeal. Last seen… last seen… last viewed—there it was.

Greg reads the entry, clicking in for details and making sure to note the timestamp of the edit. As suspected the editor itself is a temporary account like the one that he’s using, but the approval of the edit is another thing entirely. It takes a few more clicks to find the correct section, and once he’s there Greg’s eyes widen when he sees exactly whose name he sees on the screen. If this really belonged to that person…

Ian was definitely going to need to see this. Greg quickly gets out his phone and activates his camera, bringing it up to the screen and snaps a quick picture. He checks it briefly to ensure that the relevant information had been captured and makes sure to fire it off to Ian before pocketing it back. He looks at the screen again after that, simply taking the moment to soak in the information he had just gotten. If this really was true—

His thoughts screech to a halt when he hears footsteps coming towards the door. Greg acts fast, backing out of the screens to get to the point where he can log out. He just manages to click the option to sign out when the door opens, and Greg turns around as the lights in the room turn on to show the figure of Chief Superintendent Davies. The same Chief Superintendent who had his face punched in by John.

“Sir,” he quickly greets, hoping that Davies doesn’t hear the erratic pounding of his heart. Of course his luck had to run out in the worse way possible. That always seems to be how things always were with him these days.

Greg wills himself to stay still as Davies sweeps his gaze up and down before looking at the computer behind him. “Staying back late, are we?” he asks. “Didn’t think you’d still have anything left to do, Lestrade.”

“You know how it is, sir,” Greg forces a smile onto his face. “Work always finds a way to get you when you least expect it.”

Davies snorts. “Well, I’d suppose you would know best,” he says, then eyes the computer again. Greg holds his breath and tries to force his heart to calm the hell down. All he needs is to keep it cool, make up something so that he can excuse himself, then get the hell out once he’s far enough. He’s already gotten what he needs here.

He counts down from five in his head before speaking up again. “Well, if you need to use the computer, sir, you can have it.” He gestures to the computer at this point and adds on, “I just finished with what I wanted to do.”

“What you wanted to do, huh?” Davies looks at Greg once more, the distrust clear on his face now. “And what would that be?”

“Just some old cases, sir.” Well, it’s not entirely a lie. Spencer’s case could be technically considered old now since the case did officially close once Spencer had turned himself in. “Needed to look up on some information.”

Davies raises an eyebrow now. “Information? I’m sure everything should have been provided in the files you received, Lestrade.”

“Always good to double-check, sir.” It’s almost worrying how easy all these lies are slipping his tongue, but Greg can debate with himself over that issue later. There are more important things to worry about. “Some cold cases tend to lose stuff on the way, so I just wanted to make sure that I got everything.”

Greg watches as Davies gives a slow nod in return. “Still so hardworking, even with the cold cases. Guess your twenty years of experience here isn’t entirely worthless.”

Try as he might Greg can’t entirely stop the flinch that crosses his face. He knows better than to take that (obvious) bait, but it still definitely stings. It’s true he’s never been offered a promotion after getting to DI—and perhaps never will now after the stuff with Sherlock—but promotions and fame have never been his thing in the first place. He joined the force because he wanted to do the job that the Yard was supposed to do first and foremost—serve and protect the people. He had never been one for the politics and fame despite what everybody else seems to think. His work had always been what mattered most of all.

Davies watches him, clearly waiting for him to snap back and say something impulsive, but twenty years has taught Greg better than that. He quells down his temper and forces on the most neutral expression that he can muster. “Sorry, sir, but it is getting late. I should be taking my leave now.”

This time Greg doesn’t wait for a response; he inclines his head towards Davies out of courtesy and walks past him as he heads towards the door. He needs to get to Ian as soon as possible now with the information he has in hand. If what he had read really was true then they needed to take action as soon as possible.

Greg reminds himself to stay calm as he gets closer to the door, even as eager as he is to get the hell out. He counts down the steps as he takes each one of them, mind racing on what to do next. Get out of this building, get home, talk to Morgana and text Ian to arrange another meeting—

“You can stop pretending, Lestrade. We both know what you’re really here for.”

Greg pauses one step away to the door and turns back around to look at Davies. “…I’m not sure what you’re implying here, sir,” he carefully says after a few moments. The feeling of dread is already starting to pool in his gut but Greg can’t let it get the best of him here. He definitely can’t risk giving anything away here at this time.

Davies makes a face that suggests that he had just stepped on dog shit or something along those lines. “Drop the act, Lestrade, it annoys me. You might be using a temporary account but it’s still easy enough to link it to you.”

Now _those_ were words that Greg could not ignore. His expression shifts into a stern frown, and Greg all but glares at Davies, his mind quickly putting the pieces together since he’s already had the relevant information earlier. So the fact that Davies’s name was on the approval of the appeal edit was not a case of impersonation at all. Greg can’t say if he should feel better or worse over that fact.

Either way, he still had to respond to that statement. “What are your plans with Spencer?” he asks, not even bothering to beat around the bush. There isn’t any point in keeping up that particular act now that Davies seems to be spilling the beans.  
  
Or, well, at least some of it anyway. “Should you really be concerned over a criminal when you can’t even take care of yourself?”

The dread intensifies. Greg swallows down the lump that’s suddenly appeared in his throat and forces himself to speak. “What do you mean?”

“You just keep digging your own grave, Lestrade. First Sherlock, and now Spencer…” Davies shakes his head in an almost sad manner. “…you just can’t stop yourself from getting yourself all tangled up with these criminals, can you?”

Greg clenches his jaw in order to not ball his fists up and do something regrettable. God, no wonder John wanted to punch his face. Greg feels that very same urge right now after hearing him talk about Sherlock like that. Spencer was another issue altogether, but Sherlock didn’t even have a part in this since he’s bloody dead. Davies is just trying to bait him again and Greg keeps reminding himself of the bigger picture so that he doesn’t do anything rash. He has something much more important to do.

Davies, of course, takes his silence as a chance to continue with his bragging. “You’ve been tangled with them for so long that you’ve resorted to some criminal activity yourself!”

Criminal activity? Did he mean— “What are you talking about?” He definitely shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions here but at the same time he can’t imagine anything else that Davies might mean. If the man had really found out about the whole thing with changing Spencer’s heart then he needed to start thinking of a contingency plan, and fast.

“No need to be coy, Lestrade.” The smile on Davies’s face is a cruel, twisted line across his face, and if it wasn’t for everything else Greg really would have punched him. “After all, who can blame you? After the threats that Spencer had given you must have been desperate. But I guess this time your tenacity has finally paid off.”

The frown on Greg’s face deepens. “Just get to the point, _sir_.” He’s just about had enough of all this bullshit. If Davies really knows about the whole thing then Greg needs to confirm that, and then make his move from there. Ian especially needs to get out of the line of fire and protect himself.

Davies raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment on it, opting to move on to do more of his gloating instead. “Wouldn’t you agree that there’s a certain irony for the blackmailer to be the blackmailed instead? After all, he did make his confession not long after filing a charge against you… both of you must have been desperate. I guess it’s fortunate that you’re the one who decided to make the first move in the end.”

So that’s what Davies meant by ‘criminal activity’. At least it isn’t the worst case scenario… but this was still pretty bad. He still can’t relax just yet. “You don’t have any kind of proof that I did something like that.”

“Maybe not direct proof, yes, but the timing of his confession and your withdrawn charge places enough suspicion on you to be suspect. All I just need to do is to sprinkle in a few more things. And speaking of which…” He glances back to the computer and then grins not too kindly. “How generous of you to provide that little something. Trying to illegally access the files for your own doing… I can’t imagine how our fellow colleagues will feel when they know exactly how determined you are to ensure Spencer’s demise.”

God. Greg could have never suspected exactly how twisted Davies would actually be. Before all this he had always been a little under the radar, envied by other by rising through the ranks with his connections. Greg hadn’t bothered to give him much attention then beyond being his direct superior. But now here they were.

“You’re spending a lot of effort to make sure that I go down,” Greg says with as much bravado as he can muster out. He’s definitely more than a little worried, but he can deal with that later. He can’t show any weakness to Davies while they’re facing each other.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side for a very long time, Lestrade.” The expression on Davies’s face now is one of pure hatred, a feeling so intense that it must have come from years of buildup. “Now that I finally have my chance to get rid of you once and for all, you can be sure that I’ll spare no expense. By the time I’m done you’d wish you would’ve been dead instead.”

There is… a lot in that reply that Greg can pick apart, implications that click to him now from incidents and events that were once a mystery to him, and now that he has those realizations there’s no way he can keep it silent. “Then all those other times in the past… like with Jamerson and Styles—”

“The Yard doesn’t have infinite capacity, you know.” Davies almost looks insulted as he says that. “Sure, you can qualify to enter… but not everyone qualifies to stay. There will always be some who are more worthy than others.”

Greg’s temper flares up this time. “How the hell can you say something like that?! The Yard is supposed to be for the people!”

Davies’s expression twists at the outburst, a full-on sneer now on his face. “If it’s for the people then the people don’t need trash like them. I’m just doing my part by disposing of them before their stink infects everybody else.”

Greg feels like he needs to pinch himself or something now at this point just to be certain that this isn’t some dream that he’s having in his sleep or something like that. Christ, is Davies even hearing the words that are coming out of his mouth now? Is what Greg is hearing from him actually real? There’s that part of him that wants to think otherwise but he knows better than that. This is who Chief Superintendent Davies really is; a man so blinded by his own position and power that he’s no longer that man who once proudly served the Yard—if he ever truly served it in the first place.

He never had a lot of respect for Davies, but even this is beyond anything that he could have imagined. Greg curls up his fists but digs his nails into the palm of his hands, reminding himself over and over again what he needs to do right now—and that did not involve slugging him right in the face. “You can’t keep this going forever. Sooner or later somebody will put an end to what you’re doing.”

“Perhaps.” Davies definitely doesn’t sound like he believes it though. “But it certainly won’t be because of you.”

That didn’t sound promising. “What are you planning?” People didn’t say stuff like that unless they were confident, and people would only be this confident if they had a plan they fully believed in. The fact that Davies had all too easily spilled the beans had also been equally telling. There’s something up his sleeve and Greg isn’t sure what that exactly bodes for him, especially considering everything else that has been spoken.

Davies smiles at this point and said smile comes out as cruel and mocking. “You really must have been working hard, Lestrade. You’ve even forgotten that the annual review is in two weeks! And with all these recent incidents on your head, I can’t exactly say that your chances are staying are good.”

The part of Greg that wants to punch Davies flares up again but he quickly tempers it down, and instead focuses on the things that do matter from what has just been said. Two weeks to the review means that he’s got two weeks to take action. It’s not ideal, but Greg knows he has to make do with what he’s been given. It’s all he can do.

Greg stays silent while his mind whirls with plans and ideas, and once again Davies seems to take that silence as his cue to continue with even more of his gloating. “Think about it this way, Lestrade—other DIs at your age are usually dead by this point. You should be happy that you get to live out your life away from all of that danger.” The man gives a small, amused shake of his head. “Don’t be like those other old codgers and try to cling onto your age and history. Times are changing fast, Lestrade, and so should you.”

“Maybe you’re the one who needs a change,” he snaps out before thinking, and once the words are out Greg realizes just what he had exactly said and the nervousness inside him heightens exponentially. The chances of Davies really realizing anything is low but the fact that the probability is still there is still terrifying. If this is where everything falls apart then Greg thinks he’ll never be able to forgive himself for it.

He holds his breath as he watches Davies look back at him, tensing when he frowns and the silence stretches on between them. His mind is already flying with possibilities, trying to make up the best plan if things really did so south from here. There’s no way he can hide from the Met, so the best he can do is probably buy enough time to alert Ian and hide as much as possible—

“You’ve got spunk, Lestrade,” Davies finally says, and part of Greg feels a little bit relieved when it seems like the man had not caught onto anything. “Let’s see how long you can keep this up for the next two weeks then, shall we?”

He starts to move after saying those words, walking past Greg and making his way towards the door. Greg himself stays at where he stands, gaze set on Davies as Greg commits his face and voice properly to memory. There’s no doubt now that he’ll be seeing that exact same face and hear that exact same voice very soon.

Davies gets to the door and opens it, then pauses briefly after that in order to turn back and face Greg with that infuriating smile on his fat, punchable face. “If you’re truly so desperate to cling to your job, then maybe I’ll consider taking back my case if you come to my office and kiss my shoes to show your gratitude. How’s that for fair trade?”

Greg can do nothing else but stay in his spot and silently fume even more as he watches Davies spin back forward and properly takes his leave. The door is left open so Greg can hear his annoying laugh echo down the hallway, the very sound of it filling him with spite.

As the echoes of those laughs finally die down Greg finally moves. He glares at the opened door as his fists tremble, and it’s very clear now what he has to do next. Not for his own sake, but for the others who have been wronged and had their lives ruined because of what Davies had done… for all the people he had wronged, Greg swears right there and then that he will do everything he can to ensure that Davies will repent for his crimes.

And in order to accomplish that, the first thing he needs to do is to get out of here and begin planning with Ian and Morgana.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take much at all for both Ian and Morgana to agree that they need to take down Davies, especially after confirming that he did have a Palace. Driven by their motivation and the constantly rising sense of urgency, the three of them tackle against Davies’s Palace within the week and plan their real heist on the oncoming weekend. Just as with the first time they unanimously decide that Morgana should handle the delivery of the calling card since there is no way that either Ian or Greg would be able to do it without getting caught in the process.

Greg had been in the Yard when Davies had reacted to the appearance of the calling card. He had stormed out from his own office, his face red and shaking, shouting at everybody and anybody as he brandished the card and demanded for the perpetrator to step out and admit it. Obviously nobody had—and nobody had dared to, especially when Morgana had taken an extra step and smacked a copy of the calling card on the general noticeboard so everyone knew what the contents of the card exactly were.

Davies had attempted to confront him, of course, given the circumstances, but Greg had managed to stay calm and cool, the knowledge of what he was going to do soon giving him comfort. It’s a juvenile thought but at the same time there’s absolutely nothing about Davies that requires Greg to be mature. Davies had played his hand, so it’s simply Greg’s turn to return the favor.

The days to the weekend come one after another at an almost sluggish pace, but still it did come eventually, and on the night of the heist the three of them stand before at the entrance of Davies’s Palace—a towering skyscraper surrounded by literal bags of trash—or rather, trash that were people upon closer inspection. Morgana had explained about cognitive beings to them, and the knowledge of that sickens Greg even more. All of this is the proof he needs that they need to do something about Davies.

In the back of his mind Greg can feel his Persona rousing with the desire to fight and enact their true justice, and it’s definitely a sentiment that Greg can share right now. Davies needs to properly pay for everything that he’s done to all the good people he had thrown away throughout all these years.

“Alright, we definitely can’t afford to fail here.” Morgana looks at the two humans, his short stubby arms crossed over his chest. “All of us know what we’re supposed to do, yes?”

“Well, we definitely know it better than the last time,” Ian responds with a small nod. “That counts for something, at least.”

“Still, don’t let your guard down. Anything can happen in here, and if even one of us goes down we’ll have a much harder time getting to the Treasure.” Morgana turns back to face the entrance after those words, his tail flicking behind. “You guys ready? Once we get in, we’re not getting back out until we have the Treasure!”

Greg rests his hand on the scabbard of his sword and summons out his mask, feeling Arthur settle within him like a second skin. “Time to make Davies pay for his crimes.” This is something he can do with this power, something that he must do now. For all the others who have been wronged because of him, it’s high time that Davies gets what’s coming for him.

Satisfied, Morgana gives the signal, and the three of them immediately move out and focus their efforts on getting to the Treasure. The route has already been secured from their previous visits, so it’s a simple matter of going with that route, fighting Shadows along the way. Far from the first few battles that Greg had been in now he’s had more experience and a better understanding of what to do. He can feel Arthur guiding him as well, whispering in his mind the best time to strike or defend, when to help the others and when to best retreat when necessary. The steel of Excalibur’s blade flashes every time Arthur strikes alongside him, and if Greg listens closely enough he can hear the whispers of the spirit—the Persona—that’s currently imbued within. A result that stems from one of the few ‘perks’ due to being a guest of the Velvet Room, as Igor had so helpfully explained to him.

 _“As you are not a Wild Card, you do not have the ability to possess multiple Personas, and managing them is usually what the Velvet Room is most suited for. But fear not, as the ability to possess multiple Personas is but one way of many to fight against the approaching ruin. You are an Emperor, and what is better display of a ruler’s power than the sum of the strength and resilience of their subjects?”_  
__  
Caroline and Justine had termed the process ‘augmentation’, but Greg can’t see how anything can be ‘augmented’ when it involves boiling Personas alive. Sure, they may not be as fully corporeal compared to their Shadow counterparts, but if they were truly a part of the human psyche then subjecting them to things like that was definitely a bit more than ‘not good’. But Igor had assured him and said that it was all fine, and the Personas themselves didn’t say anything at all, so Greg supposed there’s not much he can say to that. Still, he can’t help but feel that the whole thing was all just a little too much for his tastes.

Either way, this wasn’t the time or place to dwell on things like that. They had a heist to accomplish, and Greg has far too much on the line this time to let it fail. With both Morgana and Ian supporting him Greg keeps up the offensive fairly well, though as they progress further in he can already feel the physical strain of everything weighing down on his body. While being in the cognitive world has indeed eased up some of the toll he would have felt otherwise, there’s still only so much he can take when he’s already in his fifties.

But even then, Greg continues to push on forward, with Arthur at his side to give him the strength he needs to continue. They make it through the latter half of the Palace without too many problems and finally reach the deepest part of the Palace—or in this case, the highest floor of the skyscraper.

The lift chime is soft when it signals their arrival on the top floor, though to Greg’s ears it sounds far too loud. All three of them hold their breath as the doors open, readying themselves for some sort of ambush—it had happened back when they were going after Spencer’s Treasure. But all they’re greeted with is silence, and after a few moments they step out one by one into the large, spacious room after ensuring that they haven’t triggered any secret alarms either.

“Well, this is a little underwhelming,” Ian remarks once all three of them are out of the lift.

Morgana harrumphs in an unamused manner, clearly not approving of Ian’s comment. “Don’t relax just yet. Considering how confident we’ve seen Davies’s Shadow is, there has to be something up his sleeve.”

Greg has to agree with Morgana’s sentiment there. “We can celebrate when we’re back out _with_ the Treasure.” And speaking of the Treasure… he scans around the room, trying to recall where the fuzzy, unidentifiable object had been floating back where they had first seen it. It doesn’t take long before he sees something floating at the desk set in front of the wall length mirrors, an unnatural glow surrounding it that gives whatever the object is a luminescent sheen.

He makes a sound to get their attention and gestures towards said object. “That should be it.” It had happened similarly with Spencer’s Treasure too—going from a fuzzy, unknown object to something with proper form and substance. Morgana had explained that too, though Greg still has some trouble wrapping his head around the concept. It’s only the second time that they’re doing this, after all.

Greg tries not to dwell too much on the fact he just told himself that it’s ‘only the second time’.

The three of them move closer towards the desk once Greg had pointed it out. Once they get close enough Morgana starts getting a lot more restless, and that’s how Greg knows that he’s gotten it right. Or at least, if what he guesses is indeed correct.

“T-Treasure…!” Morgana gasps out, breathless, and Greg can hear Ian groan softly nearby. Both of them know what’s coming next now. They both watch as Morgana all but jumps onto the table and starts rubbing himself over the item, purring incessantly.

Greg lets it happen for all of three seconds before he walks over to the table and forcibly pulls Morgana away from the Treasure, ignoring the cat’s yelps of protest when he does so. “You can salivate over it _after_ we get it out of here. Let’s do this before Davies actually does do something.”

Those words seem to be enough for Morgana, as the cat stops protesting and shakes his head before giving a nod of agreement. “R-Right. Let’s finish this up quickly.”

“Let’s.” Ian walks up as well after saying that, grabbing the Treasure—a statuette—and stashes it into the sack that Ian had the foresight to bring along with him (though Greg has to mentally add that they’re lucky that the Treasure wasn’t ostentatiously large like Spencer’s had been; the sack definitely wouldn’t have been enough). “Time to get the hell out of here before—”

Ian is cut off when the whole room starts to flash red while the wailing of sirens fills the air. Well, if they hadn’t been spotted before, they’re definitely spotted now.

From the other end of the room Greg can see that the lift is moving, and he swears and starts preparing himself for the worst. Ian mutters a few choice words of his own, though his attention is more focused on finding a way out of the room. Morgana aids him in that endeavor, but a quick check is all they need to have their answer.

“We’re trapped here!” Morgana exclaims as he leaps back up to the table. “The lifts are the only way in or out of this room.”

Ian swears again. “The arse had probably planned to trap us here all this time, then finish us off with his goons.”

“Well, we’re not giving him the pleasure of letting it happen.” But even as Greg says that he can see that the lift is reaching the top floor, and they needed to move fast before they’re pinned by the Shadows. But there’re no other exits, and the window is clearly showing nothing else but a long way down…

…

Greg quickly moves himself to one end of the table and starts to try and haul it up from one end. “Help me carry this, Ian.”

Ian turns to look at him with a puzzled expression. “What are you doing—” He cuts himself off as his eyes dart from the table to the wall-length windows that line the entire side of the room they are at, and Greg can see the moment when it clicks on his face, and then his expression becomes one of disbelief when he looks at Greg again. “Are you sure?”

“It’s the best we’ve got.” If they weren’t in the cognitive world Greg would have never considered this, but he’s felt what the cognitive world has done for him. In a world powered by human thought and perception it is the mind’s belief that makes things real when they could not, and that’s what Greg has to believe in right now. They can do this, and they _have_ to. Failure isn’t an option.

He doesn’t know if it’s because Ian thinks the same way or if it’s the fact that he can sense the determination that Greg has right now; either way he gives a nod of agreement and goes to the other end of the table. With both men on each end the table now lifts relatively easily, and they proceed to carry it as close as they can to the biggest window along the row of windows that make the wall of the office.

From the corner of his eyes Greg can see the lift reaching the top very shortly. “On the count of three!” he calls out to Ian. The man nods in response and the two of them bring back the table, getting into position before beginning the countdown.

“One…” The lift’s motor was audible now.

“Two…” The motor was slowing down.

“Three!”

The lift dings just as the loud sound of crashing glass echoes through the room, and in the next moment as Shadows disguised as security guards start to flood the room all three of them jump through their newly-created opening, reaching to grab the leg of the flipped table as it begins to skid down the side of the skyscraper. Greg remembers when he first pointed out the tower’s weird slanted side on their first visit here and is now glad that the office windows happen to be at that slanted edge.

Wood is very definitely not something that goes well against glass, but Ian solves the issue by summoning his Persona and casting its ice spell (‘ _Bufu!_ ’) to create a makeshift path for the sliding desk to follow. It’s only slightly better after that, and the fact that the slippery surface makes the table go even faster is another thing that Greg has to start worrying about.

The three of them somehow just manage to squeeze themselves within the table’s frame, but it’s clear that there’s another problem quickly heading their way. “The support block is going to crash into us!” he shouts.

“I think you mean _we’re_ going to crash into the support block!” Ian shouts back in return, the pauses as he eyes the ground which is still relatively far from where they are. “We’re going to have to jump!”

“ _What_? We’ll never survive that!” Cognitive world or not there are still some things that are beyond human limitations. They were already pushing their luck with this—anymore and Greg is certain they’re just hurtling themselves to certain death. If he has to die, he’d rather do it after making sure he’s taken down Davies.

Ian opens his mouth to start saying something, but Morgana jumps to the top of his head and cuts him off. “Let’s jump!”

“Wha—” Greg begins, but Morgana has already jumped off from Ian’s head before Greg can say anything else. He splutters for a moment, too stunned to really say anything at all, but Ian’s voice snaps him back to reality before his mind dithers further in his growing confusion.

“We’ve got no other choice, Greg! If we don’t jump, we’ll die from the impact!” The urgency in Ian’s voice clearly shows that he’s serious about what he says, and Greg knows that Ian isn’t making it up. He has to move if he doesn’t want to end up smushed into a pillar halfway down a building.

With how long they take to make the jump there’s no time to even time it properly. All Greg can do is to give his consent before the two of them take the leap in the very next second. Greg feels his heart going into overdrive as he feels nothing but air around him, stomach dropping as he goes into freefall after jumping off the table (which meets the support block with a resounding _CRACK_ as it collides against it).

As he goes into freefall Greg can feel the g-force rippling against his skin, gravity doing exactly what it’s always meant to do even in a world like this. A shout escapes from his mouth as he falls, plummeting back down with nothing to support him, his mind whirling with the certainty that he is going to die as soon as he hits the ground—

He sees something black and familiar somewhere below him, and Greg just manages to make out that its doing something before suddenly the black figure _expands_. It gets much bigger, bigger than he and Ian combined, then starts to protrude backwards to gain depth in an almost comical like fashion. It then twists, vague shapes starting to appear, and Greg thinks he sees something like doors opening from it before he falls right into it. Rather than anything hard Greg finds himself sliding down on something akin to a cushion, and the next thing he knows is that he’s sitting at the passenger seat of what he can only assume to be a London cab.

Ian, sitting at the driver’s seat himself, looks just as confused as Greg is, and the two of them dart their gazes around in order to try and figure out what the hell just happened. “What the heck is this?”

Greg almost asks the same question himself when he realizes that they’re missing one person—or rather, missing one cat. “Where’s Morga—” He doesn’t get to finish asking his question however, as the very next thing that happens is for the vehicle they’re in to hit the ground. But rather than it getting crushed like it should have been the best way for Greg to describe what had happened is that it _bounced_. It bounced back up into the air, hanging briefly in the air, then fell back down onto all four of its wheels this time around.

The impact that Greg felt when it landed this time went all the way into his bones, but for better or for worse the bouncing didn’t happen again. There was an almost thunderous silence after the equally loud sound that came when it landed, and the two of them took a moment to recollect their bearings after everything that had just happened.

Greg looks around them again to make sure that Morgana really wasn’t here before asking again. “Where’s Morgana?”

“Nngh… right here!”

Both Ian and Greg start to look around upon hearing Morgana’s voice, trying to locate where he could be inside this vehicle. It wasn’t particularly big, and if they could hear his voice well enough it had to mean that the Morgana himself had to be close by…

“Geez… didn’t you hear me the first time? I said, right _here_!”

The taxi honks after those words—or perhaps the more accurate term to use here is that it yowled. Nothing as bad as what Greg would hear in the alley close to his place on some nights, but loud enough that the sound of it is pretty unmistakable.

Apparently the same applies to Ian as well, as both of them proceed to stare at the wheel of the taxi for a good few moments. “…Morgana?” Ian is the one who eventually breaks the silence with that question.

The taxi let out a disgruntled huff. “Y’know, a thank you would have been nice.” That is very definitely Morgana’s voice, as far as Greg can tell.

He wonders for a moment if he’s imagining hearing it, but then Ian speaks up and Greg is comforted with the fact that it is indeed not just him who had heard it. “Is this you, Morgana?”

Another disgruntled sound. “You know, I was expecting a bit more amazement from the both of you.”

It takes a moment for Greg to find his voice. “I’m pretty sure we _are_ amazed.” A bit more than amazed, really. Stunned would be closer to how he feels about all of this.

Ian spends a few more moments staring at the dashboard of the Morgana turned taxi they’re in, then shakes his head and turns over to look at Greg. “We can talk about this later. Right now we need to get out before Davies catches up to us.”

Greg has to agree that Ian made a very compelling point. He looks over to all the stuff inside the taxi, noticing how everything seems to look like it is functioning. Perhaps… “Can we actually drive, Morgana?”

“ _Duh_.” Morgana just sounds exasperated at this point, clearly not too appreciative of the fact that neither of them had apparently thought of that. “But don’t expect me to move by myself, I’m not some magic cat taxi.”

Ian mutters something along the lines of ‘then what else could you be’ but fortunately it’s not loud enough for Morgana to pick up. Greg watches as Ian starts to poke around the dashboard, obviously attempting to find whatever it is that would start up the vehicle. “Where’s the ignition?”

“It’s a button on the dashboard. Should be pretty obvious.”

Obvious is what it should be when there is only one button, but Greg can see far more than just one when he stares at said dashboard. He quickly scans across them, trying to spot whatever pops out to him the most as a ‘press to start’ kind of button, and his gaze eventually falls onto a relatively big and black one that’s set at the side of the driving wheel’s base. Greg makes a sound to get Ian’s attention and then gestures towards it. “Think that’s the one?”

Ian is already hovering his hand close to said button. “Only one way to find out.” He hits the button after saying those words, and the two of them wait to see if there’s any reaction at all. A moment passes, then two, and then…

The both of them frown, and Ian is the one who eventually asks the question. “Is that… purring?”

Greg simply glances at Ian and shrugs helplessly. At this point he’s pretty sure they just shouldn’t ask questions any more. Everything about Morgana continues to be a mystery to both of them, and Greg isn’t ever sure if they’ll unravel anything at all. But right now that doesn’t really matter.

Morgana, on the other hand, obviously sees no fault at all. “How do you like that? It’s my meow-tary engine!”

“Yes, well, we can talk about it more once we’re out of here.” Ian replies dryly. Greg watches as he grips the steering wheel and then floors the pedal, and the Morgana taxi starts to move, quickly picking up speed. Greg soon is holding the handle to keep himself on the seat as the vehicle hits a few bumps on the road, sending him jumping up and down in not exactly the most pleasant manner. He’s definitely going to feel this tomorrow.

The same can probably be said for Morgana as well, who clearly is also not enjoying the fact that he’s going at full speed. “Too fast, too fast, I’m gonna—” And here Greg things hearing a cat turned taxi puking is something he would ever hear but yet here he is right now, experiencing exactly that.

Greg squints through the front windows, trying to determine how close they are to the exit. “Shouldn’t be much longer now!”

Ian lets out a small grunt. “Yeah, as long as we don’t get—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence since it’s probably exactly what happens next; the ground suddenly lurches from underneath them, and with the current speed that Morgana is at there’s no way for them to be stable.

The taxi launches up into the air, twisting and tumbling, bouncing back up again when Morgana hits the floor, but then after that Greg feels the displacement of air as the taxi abruptly vanishes, leaving him back out in the open. He only has a moment to process this before he lands back onto the ground none-too-gently and feels the impact rattling his bones.

It takes more than a few moments before Greg can move, and he can feel the aches in his body as he forces himself to get back up on his feet. Nearby he spots Ian attempting the same as well, and slightly further away is the visibly prone form of Morgana, who is now back in his cartoonish cat shape.

Greg gets back on his feet first, then slowly moves himself to where Ian is, doing his best to help him up. “You alright?”

“Could’ve been worse.” Ian winces visibly when he moves his arm, the action clearly brining him some pain. “Think I might’ve sprained my arm somehow.”

Considering everything that’s happened, Greg say he can’t be too surprised. He gives Ian a small nod before he looks past him to the still prone figure of Morgana. “I’ll go check on Morgana.”

Ian nods to show that he’s heard him, and Greg checks for a moment more to ensure that the other man is alright before he leaves him be and heads towards Morgana. It’s not exactly a walk in the park but he manages, and once he’s close enough Greg goes onto his knees so that he can look over the cat better.

Once he’s close enough Greg can see the numerous wounds and injuries that litter all over Morgana’s body, all of them hidden by his black fur. He can’t imagine what it’s like if he could actually see the full extent of the damage dealt and can only feel terrible. Once more here they were all risking their lives, and this time it’s really because of him. If he hadn’t been so careless and tried to rush things, then maybe…

His thoughts halt when he hears the sound of a twisted, amused chuckle that could only come from one particular person, and Greg looks up to see Davies—or rather, his shadow—walking up to him.

 ** _“Well, now,”_** the Shadow speaks, and just the mere tone of his voice has Greg wishing that the arsehole could choke on his tongue and die. Everything he says and does just feels disgusting and Greg swears he can feel the shadow’s slimy words crawling over his skin. **_“What do we have here? A washed up cop and his pet cat?”_**

Greg puts on the best scowl he can muster. “Trust you to play your dirty tricks even in here, Davies.”

 ** _“Dirty? Me?”_** The disgust on not-Davies’s face is all too obvious, **_“You’re the one who’s breaking into my building and committing larceny. A criminal like you has no right to tell me that I’m dirty.”_**

Anger flares through Greg at those words, sharp and distinct, causing him to scowl even harder. “This whole place doesn’t even exist on honest means.” They had all seen it during their infiltration to the top floor; from the plagues and statues and the documents they’ve stumbled across to the obvious lack of workers around here even though this place should be an office building. It’s just an empty front to hide all the sins that Davies has committed; there’s no reason for a place like this to even continue standing.

It’s easy enough to see the moment where Davies’s Shadow reacts. His face twists further at the word ‘honesty’, and the disgust that’s already showing multiplies a hundredfold. **_“Just like all the others,”_** he all but spits out his response. **_“Parading around with all your foolish words like ‘honesty’ and ‘morals’. Tell me, how does that get you anywhere?”_**

At least that is a question that’s easy to answer. “It gets me somewhere that you’ll never be at,” Greg spits back out. Nothing that Greg himself did was ever for things like money or fame; he did this because he wanted to help the people, to protect those that had nobody else to protect. And though reality has never made it easy for him Greg still tries anyway, because that’s what he can do.

Obviously, that had not been the kind of response that Davies had been aiming for. His face twists even more now, almost becoming outright grotesque. **_“Defiant to the bitter end… well, that’ll just make it more satisfying when I hear you beg for your life.”_** The Shadow takes a few steps back then and Greg can see the dark smoke starting to form around him, a sight that he remembers back when he had to face up against Spencer’s Shadow.

 _Steel yourself_ , he can hear Arthur whisper at the back of his mind, and even while his body is battered Greg will never let his spirit break. Not again, never again. He’s made his choice when he awakened to Arthur and Greg will stick to it with everything that he has at his disposal.

The ground around him starts to lighten, and a circle of light just big enough to surround him and Morgana appears from above. That same light slowly turns into a shade of gentle green, and Greg can feel the strength returning to his body, giving him what he needs to pick himself back up from the ground. Close by he can see that Morgana is doing the same as well, and as Greg steadies himself he hears the quiet sound of footsteps as Ian runs up to the both of them.

Ian looks at the both of them with a fair amount of concern. “Are the two of you alright?”

Greg gives himself a moment to look himself over before he gives a soft sound of affirmation and nods. “As well as I’ll ever be.”

Morgana shakes his head quickly after getting up on his feet, then proceeds to nod as well. “A little rattled,” he admits, and his voice is definitely showing off that shakiness, “But I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

 ** _“Oh, I think that’ll change soon enough.”_** The laugh that comes from Davies’s Shadow this time is much darker and sinister, and when Greg looks over to where he is he can see that the dark smoke covering the area around him, entirely obscuring his form. He knows what to expect now after having gone through this whole song and dance with Spencer, but it’s not going to be easy.

Now that all three of them are on their feet Greg quickly gestures for them to move, and they all do so, retreating backwards to get a little more needed space. As they do so the laugh from Davies’s Shadow never ceases, only turning more higher pitched instead as the smoky form grows in size; it gets larger with every passing second, only stopping when it gets to about half the size of the building they had just escaped from.

They stare at the large, unknown form, all of them holding their breath and preparing for what’s soon to come. Morgana takes out his scimitar after a moment and points it at their enemy. “No matter who you think you are, you can’t escape from your crimes. We’ll expose every last one of your misdeeds!”

The giant, shadowy form laughs once more. **_“There’s no way that anybody will believe a bunch of renegades like you three. I’d certainly would have liked to see you try—”_** Davies’s Shadow stops at that point because that’s when the smoke around the form disappears, and Greg is treated to the sight of a giant, hulking gargoyle-like figure. It’s grotesquely misshapen with a large top and almost comically small lower half, and its wings are tiny bat-like things that do nothing to enable it to fly. But perhaps the most disquieting thing are its eyes; each one is at the end of a stalk, and those stalks protrude out from what had most certainly been eye sockets.

There’s only a moment for Greg to take in everything that he’s seeing before the Shadow opens its twisted beak-like mouth and speaks in a much raspier tone. **_“—but too bad you won’t even live to see something like that in the first place!”_**

Morgana lets out a disbelieving snort. “We’ll show you what we can really do!” he exclaims out loud, and it’s with those words that did they truly begin the battle.

* * *

The fight had been fierce on both ends, with neither side wanting to let up. More than once Greg had been certain that he was not going to make it, but there was always either Ian or Morgana swooping in with their own Personas to help him out and save his skin. He does the same in return, or at least as much of that as he can manage. Arthur had been especially vital during times like these, empowering him with the strength and resilience that he wouldn’t ever have in any other circumstance. _Fight_ , he thinks he hears his Persona say sometimes, and regardless if that had been his imagination or not Greg does it anyway, for it is something he can do with this power that’s been given to him.

Just as he thinks that they’re at their limit, the monster that had been Davies’s Shadow finally falls to the ground, and the Greg can see the black smoke from earlier now seeping out from its form. He holds his breath as he regroups back with the other two, and the three of them watch and prepare themselves for whatever may happen next.

A moment passes, then two, and then eventually the smoke dissipates, and they watch as the monstrous form darkens and then shrinks all the way back down. Soon enough they’re looking at the figure of Spencer’s Shadow before he had transformed, and without his formerly large form in the way their patch back to the real world is now clear.

They watch the prone form of Davies for just a while more until Ian breaks the silence. “C’mon,” he says, already turning around and starting to walk away. “Let’s get out of here.”

Morgana nods and easily follows behind Ian, leaving Greg alone as he continues to stare down at the Shadow of Chief Superintendent Davies. Just like with Spencer the way these Shadows are now after being beaten up is utterly pathetic, and perhaps in any other situation he would have felt some sympathy. But the truth is very different from what he might have wanted to think, and Greg knows now that he can’t avert his eyes away from it regardless of how painful it would be.

There’s a brief moment of surprise when he sees the Shadow actually move, and he tenses up, the adrenaline still running through him, ready to attack again should anything happen. But all that the Shadow actually does is to raise his head up, stare at Greg and say out all-too pitifully, **_“Please don’t leave me here…”_**  
**__**  
Any sympathy that Greg wants to have here is already long gone. “You made your own bed, Davies, now you actually have to lie in it.”

 ** _“No! Please…”_** Huge, fat tears start to roll down the Shadow’s cheek, and regardless if that is real or not Greg knows better than to actually offer his help. Davies certainly hadn’t done the same for all those other people in the Yard whose lives he had so happily destroyed. In a way, this is a petty revenge, but at the same time this is also exactly what a petty man like Davies deserves.

Greg stares down at it, and his voice is ice-cold when he speaks. “Can you feel it now? This is exactly how all those other people felt like when you trampled on their lives and destroyed them. They were all just good people who were trying their best to do their jobs, and its people like you who ruin everything that the Met and all those people want to stand for.”

It’s so tempting to give in to the wrath that howls within him, the part of him that wants to crush Davies’s head with the heel of his plated boot. It would be satisfying… but he knows that’s not what he should do. Killing the Shadow would only destroy the real person, and if Davies was rendered into a vegetable or something along those lines it would be letting him off easy. He wouldn’t be given true justice in that manner.

Now it’s easy enough to imagine what Ian felt like when they were dealing with Spender back then; that temptation to simply exact revenge in the simplest form possible, to unleash all that rage and frustration onto somebody deserving of it. But doing that would make them no better than the people they’ve had to face so far, and becoming those people is the last thing that Greg wants to do. If he does that, then it will be arseholes like Davies who’ll get the last laugh, and that thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

The sobbing sounds from Davies’s Shadow draws him back to reality, and Greg continues to stare at it. He’s already made his decision, but the urge is always there, and Greg doesn’t think it’ll disappear anytime soon.

 ** _“I’ll have nothing left if you take this away,”_** Davies begs some more, and it’s almost funny how so much of what it’s saying and doing is similar to what Spencer had done as well. It would truly be funny if it wasn’t so infuriating at the same time. **_“Please, don’t do this.”_**

Greg opens his mouth, more than ready to say more reasons as to why Davies deserves this, but Ian’s voice from afar cuts him off. “Leave him, Greg. You don’t need to hear any more of his excuses.”

That much, Greg can certainly agree; continuing to listen to Davies would just be a waste of his time. He spares the Shadow one more glance before he turns and starts to walk to where Ian and Morgana are waiting for him. As he does so he can hear Davies’s panicked shouts, voice frantic as it babbles anything to get Greg’s attention back on him. **_“Don’t! Please! I’ll tell you everything! I didn’t have a choice on what I had to do, I would be in danger myself if I didn’t follow what I was told to do. You have to believe me—”_**  
**__**  
For a brief moment Greg considers pausing to listen to what the Shadow has to say, but he quickly banishes that idea away with a shake of his head. It’s just saying stuff to keep him here for some reason or other; there’s no more need to pay attention to it now just like as Ian had said. Whatever it may be, it’ll no longer matter once they’re out of the cognitive world.

A rumbling begins in the distance as he approaches Ian and Morgana, and the three of them turn behind to see the skyscraper starting to crumble from the top down. The Palace is starting to break down, and once they’re out of here it’ll be gone for good.

Greg turns back to the other two. “Ready?”

“Been waiting for a while,” Ian replies, while Morgana’s response is a very resounding ‘yeah!’ Despite himself Greg cracks a smile at that, and with one final nod he takes out his phone and activates the app on it to bring them back into the real world.

_“The destination has been deleted.”_

* * *

“Did you hear? Chief Superintendent Davies resigned yesterday.”

“It was so sudden, I wonder why. Wasn’t he slated for a promotion pretty soon too?”

“I heard that he confessed to making some under the table deals. Framed some of the people here too, like Jonas. Remember him?”

“Christ, yeah. Did Davies really do that?”

“Apparently. Who knows how many other people he framed?”

“Jonas was quite a while ago. If he did it to others before him…”

“I always knew there was something fishy about him.”

The gossip in the office is strong today, and Greg is pretty sure that it’ll stay that way for a while. Normally he would be annoyed about it, but this time things are a little different. It’s definitely been cathartic to hear and know that all of Davies’s wrongdoings have been brought to light, and while the ones who are already gone probably can’t return to the Yard, he hopes that at least they would be compensated to some degree. Even that thought is somewhat idealistic, but Greg will try his best to make it happen somehow.

Still, that is something to do later. For now he needs to keep his head down and wait for things to properly blow over. But that doesn’t mean he can’t continue to listen to all the pantry gossip about Davies as he slowly makes his coffee. It certainly is a strange feeling to actually know the true story and in a way, be the direct cause of it, but he knows better than to say anything like that.

As much as he wants to keep listening in, there’s only so much that Greg can delay in making his coffee, and eventually he pulls himself away from all the gossip and slowly makes his way back to his office. Donovan is already standing at the door with a stack of folders in her arms, waiting for him to arrive, and when he does she looks none too impressed over the amount of time he had taken to get that cup of coffee.

“Certainly took your time there, sir,” she states with a pointed eyebrow, and Greg can only shrug helplessly.

“Lots of gossip to hear, you know how it is.” Greg opens the door to his office and walks in with Donovan following behind. He moves to settle back on his chair, putting down his cup of coffee while Donovan puts down the folders that she had been carrying.

She gestures to the stack after having placed them down. “Whole bunch of files for us came this morning. Still all cold cases, but at least they’re closer to our division than before.”

Greg blinks at the sight of said stack, then picks up the folder from the top of the pile and flips through it. “Huh.” It was surprisingly not a very old case too; all the ones before were at least years old, if not outright decades. Well, it’s not exactly what he hopes for, but he’ll take it anyway.

Donovan gives a sagely nod in return, eyes wide. “Yeah,” she says, then pauses to glance behind her. Greg follows the trajectory of her gaze and sees that she’s looking at the closed office door, and from there can guess a few reasons why she might want some privacy.

He stifles down a sigh and closes the folder, placing it aside. “What is it, Donovan?”

There’s a pause from Donovan then, who seems surprised that Greg had asked her outright, but she quickly tampers that surprise down and asks the question. “These files… and I mean, considering Davies…” She trails off, but the question is obvious enough anyway.

Greg rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “Who knows? But if he really did do all those things, then I’m glad he decided to confess. Right now the Yard needs some good people more than ever.”

“Confess…” Donovan frowns at this point, and Greg can see the gears in her mind whirling. “It’s a little weird, isn’t it? That he suddenly confessed like this out of the blue. It’s almost like what happened with Spencer.”

“Well, that’s what the gossip is saying.” Greg shrugs again, nonchalant. “We’ll probably never know the truth.”

Donovan, predictably, doesn’t look very convinced. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” she responds, “…but since he’s gone, I guess we’ll never really know.”

Greg gives a hum of agreement. “Since he’s no longer in the Yard, it’s no longer our division. But these files are,” he picks another folder off the stack, handing it out towards her, “and they’re not going to solve themselves.”

There’s a brief pause as Donovan stares at the file, but eventually she takes it from his hands with a sigh. “You seem in an awfully good mood today,” she remarks after having taken said folder, looking at Greg with an arched eyebrow.

“Had a good sleep for once.” Greg cracks a smile back in return. “It really does do wonders like what the websites say.”

“Uh-huh.” Donovan is again unconvinced, but Greg guesses that she thinks he’s gotten a date or something along those lines. Well, he certainly isn’t going to try and correct her this time. She very definitely can assume that if she wants.

Almost as if on cue, Greg’s phone buzzes with his message notification tone, and Donovan is arching her eyebrow once again. Greg picks up his phone and unlocks it, briefly seeing the notification contents before he looks back up to Donovan with a pointed look of his own.

The look is enough for Donovan to get the message and she immediately raises her hands in the universal gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it,” she says as she starts to walk backwards to the door. “But make sure to not have too much fun without me.”

Greg simply waves goodbye at her and watches as she backs out of the room fully, the door closing shut after her exit. He waits for a few more minutes after that just to make sure that she doesn’t return and nobody else comes in before he takes out his phone again and opens the message to read its contents properly.

 **FROM:** IAN PARKER  
**TO:** GREG LESTRADE

Got the news regarding Davies (well, kind of). The appeal’s officially withdrawn.  
Anyway. Tonight, your place? Morgana wants to talk to us about something apparently.

Morgana wants to talk about something? That’s certainly quite intriguing, and after all the other times that the cat’s helped both he and Ian out it would be pretty rude to not listen to what he has to say. Greg isn’t too sure what it will be about, but he can make a few guesses based on… well, everything that Morgana has been so far. Either way, Greg had been planning to update Ian on his side of things regarding Davies anyway; he probably would be the one asking for a meetup instead if Ian hadn’t been the one to ask first.

The decision, then, was obvious.

_Sure thing. See you tonight, then._  
_GL_

He backs out to his phone’s home screen after sending that message, staring at his phone for a while. Or more specifically, at the blankly named app on his phone. Igor had helpfully informed him of the details; it was called the Metaverse Navigator, and that he had been the one who had placed it in his phone in the first place—along with Ian, too, after the other had awakened to his Persona. Greg had asked Igor to try and get answers from him on why he is doing all of this, but once more all he got were answers that weren’t really answers at all. It’s hard to say if he will actually ever get an answer at this rate.

Well, he supposes he’ll just have to try and figure that out by himself somehow. He isn’t a detective for nothing, even if his reputation has now been dragged through the mud. His tenacity has always been said to be the one good thing about him; Greg guesses this is where it’ll really be put to the test.

He will make sure that he succeeds. He has to.

* * *

Just like the last time they had done this they first meet up for food and a little bit of drink, having gotten takeaway so that they could eat inside the relative privacy that Greg’s place provided. Or at the very least, Morgana could get his own share from the table and they didn’t need to worry about places that didn’t accept ‘pets’.

Once the food had been consumed they moved on to the drinks, and Greg sighs after taking a sip of his beer. “Spencer, and now Davies…” He trails off and leans back against the couch, shaking his head. “Definitely took us a while, but at least that whole fiasco has been dealt with.” The whole thing with Davies had especially been hurtful, but Greg supposes in a way it had been a long time coming. At the end, he was just frustrated that he couldn’t see how deep the corruption had been, not until all of this.

Ian echoes the sentiment with a soft hum as he nurses his own can of alcohol. “Didn’t think we’d ever do this more than once, honestly speaking. The fact that we did is… well, pretty eye-opening.”

Both men fell silent at that point. Greg had to agree that doing this the second time has definitely been… something, to put it mildly. Spencer had been one thing, but going after Davies had been an experience by itself. Greg isn’t entirely sure if he ever wants to repeat said experience, but…

Morgana clears his throat at this point, and both Ian and Greg look up to see the cat sitting at the table, facing the both of them. “I want to talk to you two about something.”

It takes a moment for Greg to remember that yes, Morgana had been the reason to why they had gathered tonight beyond Greg’s own reason. He takes another sip of his beer before placing it aside, and Ian does the same before he gestures for Morgana to go ahead.

“So you know how I said that I lost my memories?” he starts with that question. The two men nod in affirmation; Morgana had definitely stressed that part more than once, along with the fact that he was most certainly _not_ a cat even though he is one right now for all intents and purposes. Greg knows better than to point that out by this point, though. “Well, before I met the both of you, I was actually doing some investigation of my own.”

Greg frowns a little. He thinks he remembers Morgana having said something to this effect before, although he’s not entirely certain. But to be fair, even with Morgana as whatever he is, he doubts that the cat would have randomly waltzed into a Palace without a good reason.

Ian rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Were you trying to find your lost memories?” he asks.

Morgana nods. “Something like that.” He pauses after that, glancing down and looking uncertain, his tail dropping as well. For all the bluster and bravado Morgana puts up at times, Greg can see just how unsure Morgana is about himself and everything else. It’s definitely a feeling that he can relate to.

The two of them wait for a little while longer, and eventually Morgana looks back up, apparently having found the courage to continue speaking. “I believe that I’m currently stuck like this because the Metaverse distorted me somehow. If I can remove the distortions on me, then maybe I can turn back into a human… and regain my lost memories too. Or, at least, that’s what I think.”

The last part is certainly not as confident as Greg had been expecting. “Just think?” he prods, gentle.

For half a moment Morgana seems to bristle up at the question, but then he stops before saying anything and relaxes back down. “It is just a guess,” he admits with a quiet sigh, “But I’m pretty sure of it. There has to be a reason why I’m stuck like this.”

Ian hums once more to show his agreement. “I’m certain there must be. To be entirely honest, I have been very curious about you. Especially after having seen you turn into a taxi.”

Oh, right. That… did happen. Greg looks to Morgana again, this time with a questioning look. “How did you transform like that?” A part of him really isn’t expecting an answer, but he can’t help but be curious. It’s certainly something, to put it mildly.

“Well, I just have a lot more experience compared to the both of you.” For some reason that response seems to make Morgana feel better, and the cat puffs up almost proudly as he replies here. “The cognitive world is fueled by the thoughts and perceptions of humans, as I’ve told you before. You’ve felt the effects yourselves while in there—you’re stronger and faster when you’re in there because humans always want to think themselves to be at their best. It’s sort of the same concept for my transformation.”

Ian is the one who brings in the inevitable question. “But what is that concept?”

Morgana shrugs. “Animals turning into vehicles? Or at least, there’s something about cats becoming buses, but since taxis seem to be the main idea of transportation for the public here…”

Was that why Morgana ended up as a taxi instead? Greg definitely can’t think of any kind of reason why people would imagine a cat as a taxi—maybe there was an episode of Doctor Who or something that had that happen. He hasn’t really been watching those as much as he used to.

“Well, regardless…” Ian rubs his chin some more, looking even more thoughtful. “I assume what you want to ask of us involves your lost memories?”

“Yeah.” Morgana gives a nod when he says that, then elaborates further. “I want to ask for your help in exploring a certain place, where I think will give me the answers that I need.”

Greg blinks at the request. “A place? Like a Palace?” He can’t imagine why Morgana might be asking for more help when he clearly can take care of himself… or, well, at least most of the time. But it still counts.

Morgana hums for a moment at the question, seemingly thinking about it for several moments. “Kinda, I guess,” he eventually replies, though his words don’t exactly inspire any kind of confidence. Greg isn’t too sure how to respond to that, but he supposes he will only know if they do go and decide to help him.

“Speaking about Palaces…” Ian cuts in, and the other two turn to look at him. Ian shifts to lean forward, elbows balanced at his knees and his head resting on top of clasped hands. While his expressions are usually already quote serious, the one that he has now is even more serious than usual. Whatever it is that he wants to say, Greg can already tell that it must have been something that Ian had been contemplating for a while.

If that is indeed the case, then Greg certainly doesn’t want to deny Ian his chance. “What about them?” he asks, hoping that he sounds curious and/or encouraging enough.

Rather than answering Ian turns his gaze onto Morgana, and he’s silent for a moment longer before he finally speaks up again. “These Palaces that we’ve went to—I’m sure there are a lot of others out here who also harbors these places, correct?”

Morgana tilt his head at that. “Palaces are simply the manifestation of a person’s distorted desires,” he replies. “As long as somebody’s wants are twisted enough, a Palace will emerge from the depths of their distorted hearts.”

Ian nods slowly as he hears Morgana’s answers. “As long as their desires are twisted…” he mutters, just loud enough for the both of them to hear. That phrase echoes in Greg’s mind, and in that moment he can’t help but think back to all the cases he had done in his career as a detective during these twenty odd years. Some were tragic, some were painful, some were just terrible… but he can easily imagine how some of those people he had arrested would all too easily have a Palace as well. Maybe if these powers had existed earlier, would he have been able to…?

Greg shakes his head and chases those thoughts away before they can stick. There isn’t any use regretting all of those, as much as he wants to. The past is in the past, and he has to accept that. All he can do is to keep on trying to do his best in the present and in the future, despite what it may bring.

He’s drawn out of his mind when he hears Ian let out a sigh, and Greg blinks, turning to look at Ian and focusing his gaze at him. There’s a weariness on his face now that hasn’t quite appeared before, and Greg watches as Ian scratches the back of his head, sighing before he speaks again. “Anthony asked me before why I chose to go after photography instead of becoming a lawyer like him even though I passed the bar exam. I said that it was because I wasn’t interested… but the truth is that I was frightened. I didn’t have the courage to stand up for others like he did, and so instead I ran.”

That… certainly is not what Greg had been expecting to hear. He can’t say that it’s bad though; in the short time since they’ve met Ian always preferred to keep num and bottle up his real feelings, opting to be professional whenever possible. He knows that allowing himself to voice all of this out is a big deal for him, and Greg doesn’t want to belittle this.

Morgana probably feels the same way as well—or at least, Greg hopes that is the case. “Your brother sounded like he was a great person.”

“He is. Was.” Ian pauses at this point to rub the corner of his eye, where it’s easy enough to spot the beginnings of some tears; Greg takes a moment to digest the fact that despite everything that has happened since they knew each other, it hasn’t been that long at all since the murder of Anthony Parker. The loss of his brother still must hurt Ian far more than he’s willing to admit to anybody.

After a moment Ian lowers his hand back down, and he looks at the both of them again. The smile on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes at all, but Greg is pretty sure neither he nor Morgana is going to point that out. “But he used his life in order to take down criminals and scumbags who try to circumvent the law. I want to try and continue that, as much as possible.”

Continue it? Greg furrows his brows, trying to make sense of what he’s attempting to say, but nothing really comes up. “What do you mean?”

Ian scratches the back of his head this time before he responds. “What we did in the last two months—going into Palaces, taking down criminals… I think I want to keep doing this.”

Now that is something that Greg definitely did not expect to hear from Ian of all people, especially when it was Ian who tends to be the more straight-laced one out of all of them (and yes, that did include Greg himself). He stares at Ian wide-eyed, and close to him at the table Morgana does the same as well, clearly having the same thoughts that he just had.

“You want to keep doing this?” Morgana is the one who asks for clarification, though if he hadn’t voiced it Greg is pretty sure he would be the one to do it in the next second.

“I… yeah.” Ian gives a small nod, then glances away, obviously uncomfortable with being asked—it was kind of hard not to, though. But at least he does further elaborate on it without their asking, for better or for worse. “There’s always going to be people who need help, and... well—“ Ian pauses and turns to give Greg an apologetic look here, “no offence to you, Greg, but the Met can’t do everything, let alone protect everyone.”

Well, Ian certainly isn’t wrong there. Greg snorts lightly and gives a helpless shrug. “You’re not wrong.” Bureaucracy had always been his biggest hurdle for anything he did in the Yard, and the whole thing with Davies had really hammered it home to him just how powerless he could really be—and already is. He can’t deny the fact that there’s probably even more people like Davies in the force, and a mere DI like him could never do anything to them while they revel and abuse their own power and privilege. It’s an incredibly sobering thought.

“I don’t know why we have this power, or if what we’re doing can be called truly right, but…” Ian trails off and stares down at his hands. Greg likewise does the same too; if he focuses hard enough he thinks he can almost feel the weight of the metal plates of his gauntlets, the cold fire that burns through him whenever he’s in the cognitive world. Arthur is a part of him and he’s come to accept that, wears that fact like a second skin—or like a mask over his face.

Greg looks back up when Ian goes on to finish what he had wanted to say. “…what we’re doing may not be exactly ‘right’, but it is a fact that we can help people with this. People who can’t stand up for themselves, or are oppressed by the ones in power… with this power we can change the hearts of those criminals before they can hurt more people.”

It would be a lie if Greg said that he couldn’t see what Ian is getting at. He would be a fool if he didn’t see it, honestly. The temptation to do all of that is there, but at the same time it is an incredibly thin line between helping and hurting. For all the good that taking down Davies had done, he still can’t quite shake off what he had seen with Spencer. There’s still that part of him that points out how wrong all of this can be too, and Greg can’t find it within himself to deny that because it is true.

Ian must have noticed his hesitation at that point, since he continues to speaks some more, and the words that he says certainly strike a few chords within him. “You know that the Met can’t take down every criminal, Greg. If what we do can help all those people that the Met ignores otherwise, then why not give it a try? And we’ll make sure to only go after people we can all agree on, too.”

Greg thinks about it some more. The whole ‘changing their hearts’ thing is still definitely a concern for him, but… it is true that the people they go after won’t stop otherwise, and if anything it’s a bloodless method. No human lives are taken when they do it, and Greg certainly can’t complain about that.

And in the end, he’s taken his risks with Sherlock and it had paid off for the most part. Perhaps this is where it’s time for him to take those same risks once more, especially when it means being able to help the people like what he had always wanted to do—and now without all the bureaucracy and red tape. It’ll be a lie to not say that he finds that part incredibly appealing.

Greg lets out a loud sigh and finally looks up at Ian, giving him a nod. “It’ll be better than where I am at now,” he admits. “But if it doesn’t work out, we have to stop, alright?” He may be willing to take risks but he will draw the line where necessary. The last thing he wants is for somebody to take the fall once more because of him.

Thankfully, Ian doesn’t try to argue against him on that point. “That’s fair,” he says, nodding, and Morgana likewise shows his agreement with a nod of his own. Three little nods—one from each of them—but yet somehow Greg couldn’t help but feel like something momentous had occurred from the way Arthur stirs at the back of his mind. If he listens hard enough he thinks he can hear Igor’s chuckle from afar as well despite the fact that he’s nowhere near the Velvet Room in any fashion.

Regardless, it is indeed something to take in, especially as the reality of their decision slowly sinks into him and fully registers in his mind. They were a team now; a team with these mysterious, otherworldly powers that could allow them to fight against the darkness of humanity and change the hearts of people with warped desires. Greg still doesn’t know at all why and how he has these powers, but after seeing twice what they could accomplish he’d be damned if he doesn’t try to do something with it. For all his misgivings about these powers there is no denying what they had done. If he is able to help even one person… then everything here is worth it. Anything that he does here now is far better than what he’s stuck with at the Met.

Arthur hums his own agreement from deep in his mind, clearly pleased at the choice that Greg had made, and it’s not hard to see why his ‘true self’ would think that way. The choice to act without restrictions, to be able to do what he wants without bureaucracy and red tape getting in the way; it had always been everything that Greg had desired deep down, and the fact that it can happen now almost seems like a dream by itself. Greg isn’t sure how long this dream will last, but for as long as it does, he’ll definitely treasure it well.

“Well, guess it’s decided then.” Greg focuses back to reality once more and blinks at Ian, who now looks surprisingly sheepish after everything earlier. “I’d say we should drink to celebrate, but well…”

Ian trails off, gesturing to their already opened beer cans, and Greg glances at it for a moment as well before he shrugs and looks back at Ian. “Nothing wrong with changing these to celebratory cans.” If anything, It probably gives them a reason to actually get back to drinking their alcohol.

The response gets a small laugh from Ian. “I suppose you have a point,” he admits before shifting to take his can and raises it up slightly. Greg does the same as well, and the two men gently clink their beer cans against one another in lieu of glasses.

“To us,” begins Ian, with a wry smile at the corner of his lips. “And what we will do from here on out as…” He pauses, then trails off, and after a moment the sheepish look is back on his face. “Any suggestions on a name?”

Greg blinks at the question, not having really quite expected it—but now that he thinks about it, makes perfect sense. “For… this?” he asks, just so to be clear. It’s hard to imagine there’s any other reason why, but might as well be certain.

Morgana is the one who answers the question. “Well, of course we need a name if we’re going to be a team!” he exclaims, almost sounding affronted by the fact that neither of the other two had apparently thought about it. “We should have a name that sounds cool and mysterious… maybe something like the Phantom Thieves.”

Ian lowers his beer can, frowning. “Phantom Thieves? I’m not too sure about that. It sounds more like a job description than an actual name.”

Greg frowns as well at that point. He can see where Ian is coming from, though personally he thinks that the Phantom Thieves is a pretty decent name. Still, they can have a few more options and see what clicks best with all of them.

Unsurprisingly, Morgana is none too happy about his suggestion being shot down. “W-Well, if you think you’ve got a better idea, then why don’t you suggest something?”

Ian hums thoughtfully, slowly putting his beer can down onto the table, and then leans back against the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. “How about… the Avengers? Since we’re avenging the people who can’t fight back and everything.”

Greg instantly snorts at the name. “That’s a bloody superhero team. People aren’t going to take it seriously if we call ourselves that.”

A pause from Ian. “…Revengers?” he ventures after said pause.

The answer is instantaneous. “Hell no.” That name is even more ridiculous than Avengers—no way is Greg going to be treated as some sort of laughingstock, even if other people were not going to know about this. There’s only so much ridicule he can handle on a daily basis.

Morgana lets out a scoff. “Who’s the one that’s bad with names now?”

Ian casts a scowl in Morgana’s direction. “Shut up,” he grumbles, then turns to Greg and gestures at him with an expectant look. “Why don’t you come up with an idea and see what we think about it.”

Greg does his best not to make a face when Ian throws that suggestion to him; he’s never been very creative with things like these, and he’d rather leave the ‘fun’ stuff to the ones who actually were interested in things like these. But this does go a little bit more than dinner parties and team building exercises; Greg supposes he can at least humor them with a try.

“Well…” he starts and then trails off, racking his mind for any kind of name that didn’t sound entirely ridiculous in his head. It is kind of hard considering how any name will probably sound ridiculous to any extent, but he tries his best anyway, since this does have some degree of importance.

He doesn’t know exactly how long he spends dwelling on it, but it must have been long enough that Ian waves to get his attention, looking almost concerned at how much time he’s apparently spent on it. “So, any bright ideas?”

“Well…” Greg looks between the other two at that moment, wondering how they might take to his suggestion. It’s hardly much better than what they had in his opinion but at least to him it strikes a better tone. He supposes at this point all he can do is to say it and give it a shot. “I guess I do have one.”

* * *

It’s hardly a surprise to Greg when he finds himself in the Velvet Room that night, especially considering what had happened in the meetup earlier. These unplanned visits always tend to happen after something momentous had taken place in his life. Greg would ask how Igor would know, but he’s pretty sure all he would get would be more of his vague not-answers.

He walks into the room once Caroline’s opened the door, heading to the table set at the center of the room and settles down on the chair that comes with it. The twin wardens move to stand at attention at each end of the table once the door is closed, and this, too, is a familiar sight. Everything almost feels like an old song and dance now even though it’s only been a bit over two months since all of this came into his life. It’s definitely strange to think about how he’s already used to all of this.

The sound of Igor’s dark chuckling breaks Greg out of his thoughts, and he looks up and across the two-way mirror to see the master of the Velvet Room studying him once again with that unsettling gaze of his.

“Yet another round of congratulations are in order,” he starts to speak. “Once again you and your allies have overcome the obstacles that have been set in your way. To manage not once, but twice, and both times without the guidance of a Trickster… your strength and determination are befitting for the mask that which you wear.”

Caroline lets out a less than amused snort after Igor’s words. “Make sure you keep these words of praise in your memory, Suspect,” she says, her tone haughtier than usual. “Who knows when you’ll get to hear it again!”

“As long as he continues to overcome the obstacles before him, our master will reward the suspect appropriately.” Justine turns to Greg after those words, and even with one eye Greg can easily see the pointed look that she gives him. “Continue to walk on the path that you have chosen, Suspect. So long as you are willing to continue with your rehabilitation, we in the Velvet Room will continue to support you.”

The path that he has chosen. Those words cause Arthur to stir in the back of his mind once more, echoing that desire while Greg himself recalls what had taken place during the meeting earlier tonight. Their decision to continue using their powers, and the agreement to work together and take down the hidden evils that had remained hidden for so long. To enact justice where it otherwise would be absent. It’s certainly a path Greg never thought he would walk on, but yet here he is, and as dangerous as it can be he has no intention of backing down.

Igor chuckles again, as if having read his thoughts somehow and is amused by it. “Though you forge ahead without a Trickster that does not mean you are lost without their guidance to aid you. The Emperor, after all, represents initiative, determination, and action. And what an act you have decided to undertake.”

Justine hums a soft sound of agreement. “A renegade… one who is called as such tends to be a person who chooses to desert their cause for another. Such a term is quite fitting for one such as you.”

Greg’s surprise at the residents of the Velvet Room knowing about this is overlapped by the fact by how strangely true those words seems to strike within him. He had been the one to suggest the name, yes, but he didn’t really think on how befitting it could be to that degree. By deciding to use his power and work with Ian and Morgana it is indeed accurate to say that he’s throwing aside his belief in the Met; it would be hypocritical for him to say otherwise. He had decided on all of this in the first place because of how recent events had made him disillusioned to what the Met was supposed to stand for.

“You continue to surprise me more and more every time.” Greg snaps out his thoughts and looks back to Igor, seeing that eerie, unfaltering grin of his. “I look forward to see how you will continue on this path. No doubt it will be a most interesting sight.”

Before Greg can try to voice out anything the unseen bell shrills its alarm, signaling an end to his current time within the Velvet Room. He can already see it starting to fade around him, vanishing back into the recesses of his unconsciousness, but before it fades away entirely Igor’s voice sounds out one last time from the darkness, and those words echo within him even after he wakes up.

“Do everything you can to win this game, Emperor. I will be watching you.”

* * *

** BREAKING NEWS BULLETIN **  
_Mysterious Vigilante Group Claims To Be Reason Behind Recent Scandals_

Inside sources from the Metropolitan Police have confirmed that at a certain group has stepped forward to claim credit for the arrest of former Bluecorp CEO Robert Spencer as well as being the reason behind the abrupt resignation of former Chief Superintendent Jared Davies. This group—who calls themselves ‘The Renegades’—claim that they made these individuals confess to their crimes by ‘changing their hearts’ via an unknown method.

As proof of their claim, they had apparently sent the same calling card that they had sent to Davies, a fact that the Met had strictly kept under wraps. The card has said to be missing ever since Davies received his, and apparently tests are underway to see if it is indeed the same card. While it is not certain yet, preliminary suggestions do seem to confirm the fact that the card is indeed the same card that Davies originally had.

Why these apparent vigilantes have decided to make themselves known now is unclear. Who exactly are these ‘Renegades’, and what exactly do they intend to do? Perhaps only time will tell.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole augmentation thing that is mentioned in the fic is basically my idea of how Lestrade circumvents the whole 'having multiple personas' thing. While he can sort of 'store' multiple Personas, he can't use them since he's not of the Fool Aracana. Instead what happens is that the Persona gets imbued into Arthur - his Persona's - sword, and different Personas obviously will grant different status boosts/effects and stuff like that. Its very vaguely sort of like Persona Q, or the little that I remember of it. (Been a long time since I played it, lol, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.) He still does have his base stats, but this way he has a bit more adaptability to what he can do, and in game terms can still function well enough as a Persona protag despite lacking the actual ability to switch between different personas. XD
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> Going with the whole medieval theme, the executions and stuff that happens in the Lestrade's version of the Velvet Room leans closer to those ye olde methods. I like to headcanon that its because (fake!)Igor can't fully access the Velvet Room's stuff due to Lestrade not being an actual Fool, so he has to improvise. >D
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> At some point I promise the actual sequel will come with actual Mystrade content in the near-ish future. Hopefully.


End file.
